The shattering of foundations
by kirks
Summary: After OOTP Harry finds out that the real threat of Voldy is the exposure to the muggles, who'd start the next witch hunt, destroying the wizarding world. Gaining allies on both sides, he unites the wizarding world. Slash, DH Spoilers inlcuded.
1. Chapter 1

**I've got a beta now. A huge thank you again for investing so much time in this, Tsurai no Shi! **

**I'll start to repost all chapters soon. For now I have only reposted the first Chapter. Chapter 5 and 6 are already waiting in the wings.**

**Chapter 1**

Harry lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom at Number four Privet Drive and once again brooded about the crap that claimed to be his life. It did not pass muster, completely insufficient, he'd require the cards to be reshuffled. After the fiasco at the end of fifth year Dumbledore had finally divulged the contents of the prophecy to him, to kill or be killed, which was quite morbid in and of itself but rather more unsettling was the doubt whether or not he really had a free will in this.

Was his free will merely limited to how well he could prepare himself to become a killer or prepare himself for his own death?

While after the death of Sirius he felt the desire for revenge more than ever, Voldemort forced his hand in this. After his entrance in the wizarding world at eleven, he had had hopes for a better life, a magical life, full of wonder. His thoughts had not been filled by revenge.

He sighed. It was not to be. Dumbledore had sacrificed his happiness and childhood for the greater good and Voldemort forced his hand, anyway. Due to his recent loss it it had become indeed personal. Voldemort had killed more than Sirius at the Ministry, he had killed his last threads of childhood. He would not really be out for Voldemort for some delusional ideas of the greater good.

The light sight of the wizarding world looked at him as the means to defeat Voldemort once and for all. The chosen one, the weapon. They did not care about him, Harry, they wanted him to save them all, so they could feel safe, ignore the threat and go on with their lives. Few people had the courage to take a stand. Harry resented them for this.

Could he still decide his own destiny, meet the end of the conflict on his terms? Up until now he had blindly stumbled around, jumping into foolish self righteous adventures for the perceived good.

_There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it._

Well, even given the source there was some truth in it. There was no absolute good or absolute evil, there were merely shades of grey. He, Harry, certainly was not absolutely good. The hate, and the thirst for revenge were proof of that.

Given that he had to kill Voldemort made sure of it. He wanted to survive and the good little hero would not, he had to die before Voldemort had a chance to kill Harry.

He wanted a chance at the bright side of life which was denied to him by Voldemort and to an extent by the order as well, for his protection and the greater good, of course.

"No more," Harry muttered to himself. "I will meet destiny on my own terms."

That said, Harry began to think once more. He had been brooding since that night in Dumbledore's office, at first overcome by grief for his godfather, then wallowing in anger and helplessness at the unfairness of it all, then drowning in resignation of his presumed fate.

He had aged a lot since then. He shed his childhood like a snake shed an old skin with the final resolution to take his life in his own hands. There would be no more greater good.

His eyes hardened and with a decisive poise he left Privet Drive for a walk in the park. What would need to be done? He could no longer afford to let others make decisions that were his to make, to keep him in the dark.

He looked down at his threadbare sneakers, his too large jeans. While he was not vain, his clothes were those of a self sacrificing idiot who cared little about himself. It gave those who saw fit to walk all over him a valid point.

Why should they respect him, if he didn't even take care for himself ? And while he assumed that the final confrontation would come and might end his life, it should give him even more reason to make the best of it. He had truly gained a new outlook on his life.

It might also give him a better angle at making allies. Not all purebloods sided with Voldemort, but surely they would never throw in their lot with an underage slob. He winced at the thought at the image he must give off to others. An awkward teen with a temper who looked like a beggar.

Dumbledore had indeed done him a disservice by first leaving him with the Dursley's and then throwing him in the wizarding world without any idea what to expect. He did not believe this was due to an oversight by the headmaster any longer.

The headmaster with his all knowing twinkle did rarely anything without a reason. His ignorance of the wizarding world had served the headmaster well.

His knowledge had always been too limited to question the established opinions of those around him. His first contact to the wizarding world had been Hagrid, who kind hearted as he was, really was not the best source for knowledge about the wizarding world.

With his wand snapped after third year, he now lived on the outside of the wizarding world and of course he was fiercely loyal to Dumbledore. Hagrid had greatly influenced his opinion of the headmaster.

But the headmaster with his kind grandfather attitude was not all caring. After he had disposed him at the Dursely's doorsteps, he had not once checked on him before Hogwarts or tried to make living with them in the summer more bearable.

Again, his thoughts had gone on a rampage off topic on their own. Step by step he would have to take control over his life. He would have to begin with people's perception of him. Subtle changes while still playing his cards close to his chest.

This afforded some cunning. He snorted. The Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! He had to have _some_ of those qualities after all.

Killing off a Dark Lord certainly counted as ambition. Cunning and ambition in and of itself certainly were not evil but rather a necessity when it came to his task. Only his naive eleven year old self had believed that and then the thought of Slytherin as the symbol of evil had somehow stuck to his mind.

"Well played old man," he grumbled. Had it not been for Hagrid and Ron with their narrow minded perception of Slytherin as evil, the Hat would have put him in Slytherin.

Malfoy's attitude had not helped either. He felt no regret for being sorted into Gryffindor. Life there surely was far more pleasant. Like that he had not to share a dorm with Malfoy. That had to be a plus.

Harry wondered how to go about changing his appearance. He would prefer to be walking through the wizarding world like a beggar for the last time.

Maybe he could ask Hermione to loan him some muggle money? He felt rather reluctant to go to Dumbledore for this. For a start, he could buy some nice muggle clothing and then in Diagon Alley he would get robes.

Harry blinked. Apparently he had been sitting there for hours without realizing time passing by. He slowly got up and marched with his new decisive walk back to the Dursely's. He stopped at the kitchen to raid the fridge.

He had hardly ever dared to do so before. During his childhood he had learnt to expect dire consequences and then he had been too resigned to defy the rules set by the Dursleys. He would no longer allow them to starve him. Right now he was hungry though. For the first time since Sirius had fallen through the veil he was aware of his stomach grumbling. .

Maybe he should get to Gringott's so he could eat out sometimes to treat himself to real meals. For now he quickly made himself a sandwich. A few slices of bread, cheese and ham would not be missed with the amount Dudley ate.

When he had his own money he would buy food for himself. Aunt Petunia's cooking certainly left much to be desired and their was no need to seek a confrontation with his relatives on top of everything else. So far this summer they had left him alone and he would rather it stayed that way.

Upstairs he went to his desk and started to compose his letter to Hermione, all the while munching on his sandwich.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you. Around here there is not much to tell, in a letter anyway. The Dursley's are their usual selves. They have left me alone, thankfully, no chores this summer . I guess Moody left quite an impression on them. _

_However, food tends to be sparse and for the sake of Dudley's supposed diet I suffer Aunt Petunia's cooking. I've been thinking: Could you send me some Pounds? I loathe to ask for this but I'd really enjoy to give me a treat and eat out once in a while. And well, I have become rather self conscious about my clothing. I would really like to buy something that actually fits. Of course, I'll pay you back._

_Love,_

_Harry_

That sounded about al right Let her think he was getting vain, wanted to impress some girl or whatever. He did not feel like explaining himself to her further. She would soon remark the changes in him herself. Let her draw her own conclusions.

He smiled and send Hedwig off with the letter. By now it was past midnight and still his mind would not settle. It felt good to plan. For once he did not feel helpless. He was no longer passive. However, he would need his strength. So he went to bed, and after what felt like an eternity he fell into a light slumber. For once he was not kept awake by dread, but rather felt too alive to fully fall asleep.

Sometime early in the morning sleep must finally have over come him, for when he was awoken by a knock on the window it was noon. He sprang up and for once felt refreshed. He gazed at the window, then jumped up and let Hedwig in.

Hermione had send him an envelope. He pet Hedwig and in search for some owl treats ripped the envelope open. Inside were two hundred pounds.

Well, this was a good start he guessed. He hid the letter and the notes under the pillow and headed for the bathroom. It took him only twenty minutes till he left the house.

He went for the mall which was quite far off, but taking the bus and paying with hundred pound notes would draw attention to him. He was, after all, the good-for-nothing nephew of Vernon Dursley who attended a school for criminals.

It took him half an hour until he stood in front of a clothing store which had a variety of different styles. He was new to the rules of fashion, as he had never really pondered on his appearance before and felt overwhelmed by the the racks of clothing surrounding him.

He wished for an outfit that demanded respect that made him look older perhaps, nice but powerful enough to keep people on their toes. In the end he chose simple black pants, a tight green t shirt and a light black jacket which was for sale. In the next store he got some simple black leather shoes, which luckily were also for sale. All in all, his new outfit was nothing special, but it was all he could afford for the moment.

After all he still needed to buy something to disguise his scar and a ticket for the train for his outing to Diagon Alley and to his own consternation he had no real estimate of prices in the muggle world. He had never owned any muggle money, before.

Harry felt increasingly self conscious as he entered the drug store. Helplessly, he stared at the rows of lined up products. A young man who appeared to be around a couple of years older than him went up to him.

"Hi. My name is Joe. Can I help you?" he asked, giving him a once over and Harry was suddenly glad that he had immediately put on his new clothes.

"Yes, actually... " he said "You see I've had a make over ..." The clerk waited for him to continue, his eyes fixed on his face. "I'm looking for something to cover this up." Harry pointed at his scar. Joe peered at his forehead.

"Well that doesn't look too bad. It looks kind of cool actually, gives you something ..." he stopped abruptly.

Harry grinned. "Well , thank you. I'd rather cover this up though. It makes people stare at my forehead."

"Of course," the guy nodded.

Harry looked at him. He was well built, lean, clothed completely in black and had a friendly face which at the same time looked closed off.

Joe had apparently noticed his look and smirked. Harry blushed slightly and then Joe went off somewhere in the back. A short time later he came back with what he explained to be a cover up stick and some powder make up. Joe looked thoughtfully at him.

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Yes, please," replied Harry.

"OK, hold still ," nodded Joe. He held up the stick.

"This, you put directly over your scar. " He drew the stick over the scar and held up a mirror. "You can no longer see the scar but you see that something is covered up. Therefore, you cover your forehead with this powder," he explained.

Harry watched in fascination as almost all traces of his scar disappeared. He thanked the man and grinned widely.

Joe gazed at him calculatingly. "How old are you, by the way?"

"Fifteen, why?"

"Oh," the clerk seemed undecided and then asked suddenly shy. "Would you like to hang out some time?"

"Sure," Harry smiled.

"Great, well I'm about to be done for today. I would like to hang out but I've promised a friend in London to come over. So maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow ? I'm not sure that I can come down here tomorrow. But could you give me a lift to London? I wanted to go there by train but as you are going anyway..." Harry trailed off hopefully.

"Sure." Joe nodded. "So, you'll take this stuff?"

"Yes, it's brilliant!" Harry decided. After all, it would often be useful not to be immediately recognized, even though his scar was already covered up for now.

"I'll go ring this up for you and then we can leave," he said.

The car ride was nice, though Harry tensed up in anticipation as they neared the Leaky Cauldron. Finally, Harry said, "Um, you can let me off here."

"OK. So see you soon?" Joe winked. Harry nodded and somehow got the feeling that he had missed something important.

He did not dwell on it though and said, "I'll just drop by the store."

Ten minutes later Harry anxiously entered the Leaky Cauldron. Would he be recognized or were decent clothes and the lack of his scar enough to hide his true identity. He quickly approached Gringott's, went to the nearest free goblin and wordlessly held out his key. It was weird and liberating at the same time to for once not to be stared at.

At his vault he took out an extremely large amount of money and converted a thousand pounds. He had much to buy and wanted to spoil himself a bit for once. Nobody had ever done so for him. He was rather proud of himself in a weird way, proud to be able to spoil himself.

His next stop was Madam Malkin's where Harry ordered every day robes in emerald green, dark blue, black and grey. He also took a new cloak. He went for a simple design but exclusive fabrics, as he reasoned he had had no chance to develop a style of his own or even good taste in clothing. One could not go wrong with simple, right? He hoped he would look dignified. At least he would not look ridiculous, like Lockhard.

He also got some dragon hide boots. He was assured that his robes would be ready within the hour and went to Flourish and Blotts. It was high time he got acostumed with the traditions of the world he was supposed to save. While he waited for his robes, he treated himself to some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's.

When he excited Madam Malkin's he had spent 34 Gallons and was clad in an unobtrusive dark grey robe. His purchases had been put in a feather light bottomless bag.

He went for Knockturn Alley to look at books there. It had shook him quite hard that he knew hardly anything about the other side, the so called Dark Side and their views. In fact, he had never chosen a side. He needed to form an opinion of his own after all. And the dark side had not invented itself with Voldemort, of course.

Finally in a book store he found a book which seemed like a good start. _A Guide for the young Pureblood_ and several books which discussed the principle of the Dark Arts. The clerk had not looked at him twice. It paid off to blend in with one's surroundings. Nevertheless, he decided not to press his luck and he quickly left for the Leaky Cauldron.

When he was twelve, Knockturn Alley had seemed to him like the eptimone of evil. Now he acknowledged the thick liveliness of despair that hung in the air.

Knockturn Alley was not necessarily evil, merely a place where the unfortunate and poor dwelled and conducted their obscure businesses away from the Ministry's eyes. A part of the wizarding black market. It compared rather to what Harry imagined muggle slums to be.

Finally he left the wizarding world via Diagon Alley and took the train from Kings Cross to Surrey and arrived back at Privet Drive. After putting his purches in his trunk, he went off once again to get some food from the snack bar near the primary school.

It felt good to have money to spent. That night he slept peacefully with a smile on his face.

The next day he decided to see Joe at the store around noon to see, if he would like to share lunch or dinner with him somewhere. After all now that he had the money he only needed some company to transform his current situation into a bit of a holiday.

Harry suddenly realized that the last few days he had not been filled with grief over Sirius death. He felt guilty. How could he simply put the memory of his godfather aside like that? Oh Merlin, how he missed him!

Somehow he then realized that he could honour his memory far better when he himself truly lived and remembered not the dead man behind the veil but the fun loving reckless living one.

And he could almost see his godfathers face saying, "Now play, have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do, cub ," with that dog like bark in his voice, while grinning like a maniac.

If McGonagall or, Merlin forbid, Snape said, "Don't do anything, I wouldn't do," that would certainly put severe restraints on him, but Sirius' comment in his mind was an invitation to mischief.

Now Harry himself grinned like a maniac while tears were running down his checks. Sirius would never truly leave him, he would always be there when he remembered him like that. Life was going on, waiting to be lived.

He arrived at the mall and went to the bathroom first to wash his face a little. However, upon entering the bathroom he promptly bumped into Joe.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Harry," mumbled Joe, who still stood extremely close to him and peered at his face.

"You 've been crying," Joe noted. Harry nodded.

"Listen, I'm OK really. I just came by to ask, if you'd, um, like to have lunch or dinner with me today."

"Sure, though I have still two hours to work," Joe replied apologetically but he looked truly happy to see Harry.

"Great. I'll just walk around a bit. I still need some stuff anyway," Harry replied and went off to get more muggle clothes.

He would most certainly not be wearing clothes like this walking pig he had for an uncle. Vernon? Vermin. That was quite fitting. The wizarding world would not realize anyway, whether what he wore was considered decent by muggle standards and he wanted never to be put anywhere near the same category of decent as Vermin anyway.

Finally, Harry found some Asian styled silk button ups with dragons and snakes stitched into them. Well, they may not be standard, but surely they were high quality. He would definitely not wear dress pants, nice black pants were fine. He also bought a leather jacket. He adored his new muggle outfit as much as the wizarding one. Who k new that this could be so much fun.

At last, Harry settled down on a bench with four plastic bags in front of him and waited for Joe to get out of work , who did a surprised double take when he came out of the store and took in the amount of bags in front of Harry.

"You sure have been heavily shopping," commented Joe.

"I'll be back at school in Scotland in September. I know I wont get anything there," Harry explained, which was certainly true since Hogsmeade offered hardly enough muggle clothing to put off a halfway convincing disguise as a muggle. He had not even considered getting himself something instead of Dudley's rags there.

Some wizards and witches apparently had so little contact to the muggle world that they did not even realize that usually men did not wear dresses, that is if they did want to avoid drawing attention to themselves, of course, which was the point of a disguise. But somehow wizards and witches just did not get it right. They mixed centuries haphazardly together, or the man at the Quidditch world cup, wearing a woman's night gown.

"Shall we?" inquired Joe.

"Yeah, where to?" asked Harry.

"Any idea?" asked Joe.

"I've never been going out around here. I have no idea where to go."

Joe looked surprised. "Oh. How long have you lived here?"

"Since I was one. My parents died and I went to live with my mother's sister and her family ."

"And they never took you anywhere?" asked Joe, bewildered.

"Hell no, my aunt despised her sister who died and got her saddled with me, though I really was more like a work slave than a burden to her," Harry shrugged.

"So now they send you off to Scotland for most of the year?" questioned Joe sharply, his voice quivering in anger.

"Err, it is were my parents went to school. They had paid the fee in advance," Harry assured him, "It's al right, I guess." Joe still looked a little shell shocked.

"That's at least something," he said and guided Harry with an arm around his shoulders to his car.

"So anyway, where to?" Harry wanted to know.

They ended up in a cosy looking pub twenty minutes away. Harry looked around, the interior looked light and friendly. Several tables on the side were a little out of the way. On one of those tables apparently was a couple intent on sucking their faces out as Ron would put it. They went over to one of those tables secluded in the corner on the other side of the room.

A waiter came to their table with the menu

"Rick!" exclaimed Joe, standing up to give the guy a hug. Harry smiled at the waiter who seemed to know his knew friend.

"Wont you introduce me to your friend?"

"Harry this is Rick. Rick this is Harry."

"Hi!" Harry smiled and the waiter left.

"So ..." said Joe to Harry as Harry skimmed the menu.

"So?" Harry looked up and smiled goofily. Then he looked at the menu again.

"Do you know what you want already?" Joe asked after several minutes.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said. Joe waved Rick over and Harry ordered an steak with western potatoes and salad And Joe ordered a Caesar Salad. Both ordered an ale, which Harry then regarded quite distrustfully.

"What was that in the bathroom today about?" Joe wanted to know. "Was it your relatives?"

Harry looked up and said "Well, kind of." Joe's eyes got quite a protective glint in them and Harry hastily added.

"Well not my Aunt's family. My godfather had died recently. He was supposed to get custody over me and all."

"Oh." Joe looked helplessly for something to say. "You really have bad luck."

"I'm not the safest person to have around; I guess," Harry nodded.

"Oh, don't you think it's you!" Joe exclaimed. Harry smiled.

"It was actually a fun memory," Harry smiled, "He was a fun person to have around."

Joe hugged Harry and Harry hugged him back, feeling his lean body against his chest.

"You know, I really like you," said Joe, caressing Harry's hair.

"I like you too," Harry said, smiling up at him.

Joe locked eyes with him, his face closing slowly in. Harry blinked owlishly at him, completely unprepared for what happened next. Surprisingly to Harry, Joe lips suddenly touched his. Harry stayed completely still as those lips tenderly moved around his, until Joe started to teasingly lick Harry's lips.

Wide eyed, Harry jerked back.

"Huh, that was unexpected."

"Unexpected? "Joe quirked an eyebrow.

"Em" Harry said. "I didn't think you'd kiss me."

"You said you liked me."

"Yeah, I do." Harry paused.

"I didn't think you meant like that," Harry mumbled, turning the colour of a ripe cherry. Joe started to look increasingly panicked.

"Oh, I'm sorry I thought you were gay, too. He hid his face in his hands. "I mean, I thought we were on a date. You asked me out to dinner, you hugged me..."

"Uh," Harry mumbled embarrassedly "I guess, I'm extremely clueless with those things. I always suck when it comes to that."

"You're not mad?" Joe asked uncertainly.

"No, it was just... unexpected." Harry smiled shyly.

"So you're not gay?" Joe wanted to know, gnawing nervously on his lips..

"I wouldn't know," he admitted pensively.

"What do you mean?"Joe asked, confused.

"I went on only one date with a girl that I really liked. It was a real nightmare."

"Oh," Joe said. "You are only fifteen after all. That's not completely unusual."

"Maybe not, but I don't think I was ever interested in any one else, either. I guess it never crossed my mind that I could also look out for guys. So I really have no clue," Harry answered helplessly. "I didn't want to lead you on or something."

Joe smiled. "You're a cute guy. It's al right You'll find out on your own time."

Harry stared dubiously at him.

"I guess."

They ate and Joe asked, "So, will you tell me about your nightmare date? "

"Huh?" said Harry "It's kind of embarrassing I kind of fancied her in fourth year already and when I asked her out to a school party, she already had a date.

Then her boyfriend had an accident and never came back and I guess, I kind of reminded her of him or something, because I had seen how the accident had happened. One day after a club she simply kissed me and she cried and it was wet and really quite horrible. I just stood there like petrified and she ran away.

Then I asked her on a date in the village one day. We went into this disgusting cafe and she told me that this was where Cedric and she had always gone and she wanted to talk about him and how his accident happened.

Next to us sat other couples from my school and I, uh, felt really felt pressured and I told her that I had promised my best friend to meet her later on, but of course she could come along. She accused me of really fancying my best friend, which was ridiculous and then she ran off, and that was that," Harry rambled.

"So it was all wet and really quite disgusting?" Joe grinned.

"Um, yeah." Harry nodded emphatically.

"So with that vivid description, how would describe my kiss?"

"Huh, it wasn't wet. I mean, you didn't cry and, uh, it wasn't disgusting. " His flush darkened. "I really do have a way of putting my foot in my mouth, don't I?"

"That's not what I usually hear when I kiss someone. "Joe smiled slightly and scratched his neck.

" Wouldyoumindkissingmeagain?" Harry muttered under his breath.

"What?"

Harry looked up. "Kiss me, again? "

Apparently, he was not supposed to cease blushing that day. Joe closed in and Harry hugged him, hiding his flaming face in Joe's neck. Then he looked up and Joe cupped his face in his hands. Harry closed his eyes.

He felt lips against his and started slowly to kiss back. That did feel nice. He sighed and opened his mouth a little, when he a slim tongue slipped into his mouth. The tongue began to softly rub against his own and he moaned, tugging Joe closer.

Experimentally, he slipped his own tongue into Joe's mouth. Had he known that kissing felt so good, he would have kissed Malfoy, instead of - where did that thought come from? There he was kissing this really nice guy and he thought of Malfoy. Joe ended the kiss and Harry stared bright eyed and breathlessly at him.

"Wow," he said dazedly.

"So wanna go on a date with me?" Joe, chuckled.

"I have no idea why you'd want to date little clueless me, but... yeah I guess so," Harry smiled, "Though this cannot go on beyond this summer, OK?"

After dinner Joe drove Harry to the Dursley's, where after a shy kiss good night Harry hopped out of the car with his purchases.

In the following weeks Harry kept busy. He spent a lot of time with Joe, who also introduced him to martial arts. They went to lessons three times a week and Harry suspected that they would help his duelling a lot, as it increased his endurance and helped him discover weaknesses. It also gifted him with a grace that had been missing from his movements.

He also read through his new books. A _Guide for the Young Pure blood_ proved to be an eye opener. Beneath the sneering nasals the book seemed to be drenched in, there was a great deal of essential information. There were many Pureblood customs the ignorant quite unwittingly trampled with their feet. Harry learned that buried deeply in the depths of hate for muggles and muggleborns was the fear of exposure and the next witch hunt, which really made a lot of sense now that he pondered it.

In the Middle Ages the witch hunts had decreased the number of witches and wizards dramatically. Even then Muggles had over powered the magical community by mere numbers. As a result the magical community had invoked the statute of secrecy to protect themselves from muggles.

Wizarding folk had hardly changed their ways since that time, while muggles had progressed dramatically. The gap in the numbers of muggles and magicians had drifted further apart. With the inbreeding in Pureblood society, the wizarding society steadily decreased in numbers, while muggles in comparison reproduced like rats.

Muggles had produced more nasty weapons than most people in the wizarding world could image. Pictures of Hiroshima, Vietnam and other wars flickered across his mental eyes. Wizards had the Unforgivables to do their worst at their disposal, which really paled with the ruthless tendency of muggles for mass murder. If muggles ever became aware of the magical community, the wizards would not stand a chance.

He didn't even need to question, whether or not the magical community would be perceived as a threat. Of course they would be, not because muggles were evil, but out of fear. While they were no longer in the Middle Ages and some muggles might be quite taken with the idea of magic, enough people would not take the news well at all.

A prime example were the Durselys, of course. Even more open minded people would fear the power they did not have and in the end people would demand that the threat be eliminated.

This insight certainly was no reason to kill off muggles left and right. However, it gave him a new perspective about the war and the conflict of Salazar Slytherin's refusal to let muggleborn students into Hogwarts.

Those students had been a constant threat of exposure to the wizarding world, were they to continue living among their families, who at that time still believed in the existence of magic, even if their imagination derived far from the truth.

Never before had Harry heard of Slytherin's reasons for hating muggles and muggleborns. Was his reason long buried in the depths of history and abandoned for mindless racism? Harry could not help but feel that while Slytherin himself had had some valid points, it was the root of the major problems of modern magical society.

Blood purity weakened the magical race, as they were forced to marry distant relatives at best. They had difficulties to reproduce at all and fewer children each generation were magically strong. The magical community needed the fresh blood of muggleborns that purebloods denied so stubbornly to mix with.

Another argument which purebloods held against including muggleborns in their society was, _They don't know our ways_, which was certainly true, as there was next to nothing done to introduce muggle raised children to the magical world; as he knew from experience.

Harry realized that his knowledge of both worlds was rather limited, as after he began Hogwarts at eleven he had been locked away at the Dursley's more than ever. He needed to at least get a firm grasp of muggle history and an overview over science.

However, wizards and witches knew next to nothing about modern muggle society. Arthur Weasley, with his admiration for all things muggle was frowned upon and Harry realized that in spite of his fascination Mr. Weasley really knew very little about muggles and their way of life. Harry certainly was no muggle lover, but he strongly believed that wizarding society should keep up to date with the happenings in the muggle world.

For the first time Harry looked across the allegorical fence when it came to the war. He had always known that it concerned the whole of the wizarding and muggle world but until now he had not grasped at the sheer madness of it all, and for all involved. Voldemort was attacking muggles.

Before long, Voldemort would expose the magical community to the muggle world. No memory charms would help against the Internet. The more reports they got, the more people would doubt and then the time would come when governments would target magical people. They would truly not care that the magical community was divided into "muggle lovers" and "Purebloods", but shoot and ask questions later or not at all.

They'd make magicians into guinea pigs, the freaks they could not understand. Again they would be blamed for all like in the Middle Ages. Harry wholeheartedly agreed to secrecy.

Even if he hated muggles, which was not the case, it would simply not work. Magicians would be extinct. Who knew which of their weapons the muggles would throw around and if even the muggles could survive in the toxic residual of a magical against muggle war. Harry shuddered. As if the muggles needed his kind to commit mass murder.

Harry decided then and now that the magical world needed a new side. He saw no reason why his stand should not appease the less radical purebloods, as well as the more casual sympathisers of muggle society. The wizarding world seemed to basically lack a middle ground, which he planned to fill.

He knew Voldemort cared truly neither for the muggle or the wizarding world. He was insane and too filled of hate to care. But few people wanted total destruction. He would create the middle ground where purebloods and "blood traitors" could compromise and unite as a common force against the threat to them all.

Harry grinned. His eyes were gleaming. These were indeed ambitions worthy of a Slytherin, but it would need a cunning he had not yet found within himself and yet he had to. It was the only way. But he would not have to do it alone. He would have powerful and cunning allies.

At the mall Harry decided to buy several children's books on physics, technology, electricity and genetics. He also bought some adult books on the same subjects and an overview on history. He also bought a book that documented the history of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with a lot of gruesome photos. He would have to show them. Muggles were dangerous, unless left alone.

A week before the start of school Lupin, Tonks and Moody turned up to escort him to Diagon Alley so he could get his school books. He had not bought his school books on his previous visit to Diagon Alley because he aimed to conceal that he had been there alone. They would not like that and from then on keep a much sharper eye on him. As nobody went in with him when he went to Madam Malkin's, he could pass off his new robes as part of the recent order. All went over smoothly and after three hours he was returned to Privet Drive.

His last week he mainly spent with Joe who looked quite sadly at him when he said good bye on August 31st. Harry internally was a nervous wreck, because soon he would have to set plans into motion to achieve his goals.

His summer had been like a dream of a simpler life. Joe and he had had an easy going relationship. He did not knew what to say. He sobbed into Joe's arms, who would never have an idea of what had his friend in such a state of despair.

"I'll miss you," Then he ran. He knew he could not let Joe take him to King 's Cross.

For one Joe would be seen by one of Voldemort's lapdogs, and how should he explain to him that he simply vanished through a ticket machine?

So many secrets, so many lies. He would never introduce a non-magical person to this hidden world. All in all, they were even better off not knowing of the wonders and terrors in this world. He had told Joe he could not stand saying goodbye at King 's Cross and he would call a cab. He did indeed call the Knight bus instead.

He entered platform nine and three quarters, his head held high, his green eyes taking in the parting families at the platform Even at the platform the magical community had once again divided itself into two factions. Those siding with muggleborns and halfbloods on one side and on the other side mostly upper class purebloods. Harry himself had not yet been recognized as he finally blended in.

Harry got himself on the train and found an empty compartment. He knew his friends would find him sooner or later and Malfoy would make his traditional annual visit to his compartment as well. Predictably, but rather sooner than later Draco Malfoy appeared in front of his compartment.

It really was business as usual, the sneer on Malfoy's face, their usual stand offs would follow, there was nothing new to it. To Harry this was rather tiring.

Now in sixth year they still behaved in their usual patterns. Nonsensical. Harry himself felt that he had much bigger fish to fry. He wondered, whether part of Malfoy's animosity was due to injured pride, when he had turned down his friendship. He knew now that he had gotten in the middle of the sons of two sworn enemies. He should have kept his cool and stayed out of this. The only excuse he had was that he had only been eleven years old at the time, which then should apply for Malfoy as well. He decided to break with a six year old tradition that day.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged neutrally.

"Potter," hissed Malfoy, his sneer turned into a frown. He seemed to wait for an outburst, a snide remark, a taunting, any reaction at all.

"Well, since you don't seem inclined to leave, you might as well take a seat." Harry smirked at Malfoy's dumbfounded expression. It was so much more fun to throw him off than to react predictably. Malfoy still made no move, but instead looked Harry up and down.

"Who are you and what the hell did you do with Potter?" he drawled then.

"Well," Harry drawled back, "You might be surprised."

Malfoy plopped down in the seat opposite to Harry's. They sat in a contemplative and not quite comfortable silence for several long minutes. Several distinct expression flickered hardly recognizable across Malfoy's face. Consternation, suspicion, frustration and curiosity Harry realized that they were on a crossroad which could gain him a new ally. Because in first year Malfoy had offered his hand in friendship, he decided to return the gesture. What did he have to lose, after all?

He stretched out his hand and drawled playfully, "Harry James Potter. It would be my pleasure to get to know you after all," locking eyes with Malfoy in the attempt to convey the sincerity of his offer.

Malfoy looked baffled and Harry decided not to laugh at the utterly gob smacked and disbelieving expression.

"What's the catch? After first turning down my friendship in first year and putting my father in prison last year you suddenly want to be my friend. Or is this a mere mockery?" Draco snarled and balled his fists. Harry looked at him and smiled his first sincere smile for Draco Malfoy.

"Well, I might say that the expression on your face alone would have been worth it, but Malfoy, the last time we've tried this we were eleven years old."

"You've put my father in jail," accused Draco. Harry inclined his head.

"One might say so of course, but I am more inclined to think that he put himself in jail or rather it was his actions that got him put in jail." Malfoy scowled at Harry.

"See you around, Potter," he finally said and left.

Some time later Hermione and Ron joined Harry in his compartment.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed and squeezed the air out of him.

"Hermione," he gasped "It's good to see you." Finally she let go off him.

"Hey, mate," said Ron, waving a little in Harry's direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So how was your summer?" asked Hermione.

"The best summer I've ever had." Harry said wistfully. "A bit like vacation really."

Hermione gave him a once over. "You look good actually. You have filled out quite nicely."

"I finally got to know a bit about the world I grew up in."

Harry's look resembled a little bit the look of a muggleborn upon for the first time entering the wizarding world.

"It is quite fascinating, isn't it?" Hermione exclaimed, which of course was the kind of thing only Hermione would say.

"So who is this someone special you want to impress with your charming physic."

Ron looked out of the loop, peering anxiously at his two best friends, who had so much more in common.

Harry answered, "Well I did not do this for Joe. I rather thought people would take me more seriously, when I looked like I could take care of myself."

"So who is Jo?" Ron waggled his eyebrows suggestively in a good imitation of Fred and George.

"We've dated over the summer. He works at the mall in Surrey."

"He?" Ron spluttered.

"Oh honestly Ron. Didn't you have a clue that your best friend is gay?" exclaimed Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me mate?" Ron looked accusingly at Harry.

"I didn't know." Harry answered.

"Well you obviously told Hermione!" Ron yelled.

"He didn't need to tell me anything, Ron."

"How did you know?" Harry asked curiously.

"You were no more affected by the veelas at the quidditch world cup than I was. And then a teenage guy, who when this girl he supposedly fancies kisses him and he describes the kiss as wet of all things...?" Hermione explained.

"Alright" Ron said.

"So is this anything serious?" Hermione inquired.

"Uh no, more like a friend actually and besides he's a muggle. How is that supposed to work."

Hermione's expression closed off .

"So how was your summer?" Harry asked his two best friends.

"Didn't do much, a little bit of flying in the back yard, some helping Fred and George." Ron shrugged.

Hermione said, "I've been catching up on my muggle schooling actually."

"Oh that's brilliant Hermione. Because I have this idea I will need your help with."

"It's been weird you know. It's been a long time since I've spend so much time with my parents. I love them and they love me, of course, but somehow they've become strangers. They don't understand me and somehow their life does not seem to have a lot to do with mine any longer," Hermione said.

There was a knock on the their compartment door and Hermione, closest to the entrance opened. At There stood a small second year with a note in his hand.

"Is Harry Potter here?" squeaked the tiny boy breathless.

"Yeah, I'm here" Harry replied.

"A note for you" breathed the small boy, blushing madly as he gave him the note and ran off.

"Blimey" said Ron "They do get smaller every year, don't they."

Harry chuckled "It might also be that you have again grown quite a lot over the summer.

Ron looked rather uneasily at Harry's remark about his height, almost as if Harry might jump him the very next moment. Harry shrugged this off and looked at the note.

_Mr Potter,_

_I would be delighted, if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely, Professor H.E.F Slughorn_

Harry showed the note to his friends.

"So Professor Slughorn is the New DADA teacher?"

"He teaches potions. Professor Snape teaches DADA this year. He was once head of Slytherin. He came out of retirement," Hermione answered in her prefect persona

"Huh," said Harry and Ron muttered something about evil Slytherins, which Harry let slide for now.

Harry got up and on his way to Professor Slughorn's compartment he pondered what the man could want with him. He knocked on the compartment door.

"Come in. Come in. Oh, Mr Potter I presume."

In front of him stood a fat moustached walrus, who was covered in eccentric flamboyant fabrics and eagerly stretched out his small meaty hand for him to shake.

"Indeed," he shook his hand, "Professor Slughorn"

"Have a seat, have a seat."

Harry curiously watched the odd assortment of students in the already nearly full compartment. Were they all summoned for the same reason? They did not seem to have anything in common.

"Now do you know everyone? Zabini is in your year ,of course."

Harry inclined his head towards the quiet Slytherin who despite his handsome looks always managed to stay unnoticed and thus remained to outsiders somewhat of an unknown quantity in the inner workings of Slytherin. Zabini returned the curt greeting expressionless.

"This, "Slughorn went on with the introduction "is Cormac Mc Laggen"

Harry vaguely recognized him as a seventh year Gryffindor. Next the Professor introduced him to Neville. They greeted each other enthusiastically. In the corner next to Zabinie sat Ginny, looking about as puzzled as Harry felt.

"Hey Ginny," said Harry and took the seat across from her.

"Hi Harry," Ginny blushed "You look great"

"Thanks" Harry nodded uncomfortably.

He had thought that she had been over her crush on him. She did not know that there was no hope for her.

"This is pleasant," said the Professor cozily and Harry observed that nobody seemed to agree with that sentiment, for the others were all too unsure of why they were here.

"A chance to get to know you all a little better. I've packed my own lunch, the trolley as I remember it, is quite heavy on Liquorice Wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to the challenge."

Apparently Professor Slughorn enjoyed to talk about himself and his former students and himself and how he had furthered his former students' careers and himself.

"Mr Potter, where to begin." he said contemplating Harry. "They call you the Chosen One now."

Harry oppressed the need to roll his eyes and said, "Well I don't feel too privileged by being the chosen obsession of a mad man.

"Of course" said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumours for years... I remember when – well after that terrible night – Lily - James died – and you survived – and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary."

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that clearly was supposed to indicate amused scepticism. Neville and Ginny glared at Zabini, clearly ready to defend whatever questionable powers Harry may have, while Harry chose to ignore Zabini, after all he had reacted quite sensibly to the rumour, much like he himself did in fact, although he himself also felt anger for those who planned on making him an all sacrificing hero.

"Well that seems to be a great comfort to those too lazy to fight their own battles. Unfortunately, I am not inclined to fight anybody else's' battle. So the questions in regards to my powers hardly matter." Harry stated and saw Professor Slughorn flinch and Zabinie giving him a contemplating look. Ginny and Neville looked like someone had just died.

Harry decided to leave it at that. It was ill advised and rather undignified to splutter out his own take on the matter all at once.

Neville started, "But Harry – you-know-who is obsessed with you, as you've said yourself. He wont simply let you go."

Harry said "Well that is my fight. I merely said I wont save everybody else and be some good little hero like everyone wants me to be. The sooner people realize that, the sooner they might stop to be sorry little push-overs and learn to fight for themselves instead of hoping for me to save the day, but maybe that is too much to hope for"he muttered the last bit scathingly.

Neville sat up straighter. "You are right, of course." he said guiltily.

Zabini said nothing and Slughorn flinched. Apparently, he had hit a point.

Harry had slowly come to the conclusion that Slughorn was for the most part a slimy suck up who liked to shine by association in the accomplishments of others without doing much himself, though this might come in handy in the future and as former head of Slytherin his say might still have some weight within Slytherin house.

Ginny stared at Harry adoringly. Something in Harry snapped. Her looks made him all itchy and uncomfortable. Ignoring Ginny's shy advances, did not seem to help against her patient stubbornness.

"Ginny, a word, if you would," he said.

Ginny nodded blushingly and followed Harry in front of the compartment where Harry drew up a privacy charm.

"Err," he said and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Snape sneered in his head,

"Eloquent as ever."

"This summer I have found out that I am gay. No girl could ever interest me in that way. Just so you know and are on the way to fall for my new good looks," he joked.

"Seriously, I thought, I owe it to you to tell you that there is no hope whatsoever that the two of us could ever become a couple or something, though if I had a thing for girls you would be a great girl to go out with. I mean, I really like you. Just..." he rambled.

Ginny smiled sadly at him. "Thanks for telling me. So friends then?"

"Sure"

Harry gave her a smile that was so relieved that it was really quite pathetic. They shook hands to seal the deal and with that out of the way they stepped back into Slughorn's compartment.

Slughorn and Mc Laggen chatted about an uncle of Mc Laggen who turned out to be a former student of Slughorn and was friend's with Scrimgour, the new minister for magic, as Slughorn mentioned to Harry.

Neville looked uncomfortable when Slughorn started in on him and chatted about Neville's Auror parents, who were now in St Mungo's after being tortured to insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry would have rather left, but could not do so politely. So he listened quietly to Slughorn's rambling about former students, while Zabini eyed him cautiously and Ginny stared at him as if all hope was lost. Luckily, Slughorn was happy to do all the talking and they were not supposed to talk themselves, for Harry did not trust in his own skills at small talk.

The awkwardness ended when they finally arrived at Hogsmeade. Harry gave a polite nod to Zabini and Mc Laggen, who then turned to join their respective friends in a carriage while Harry, Ginny and Neville joined Hermione and Ron in another one.

"So what was that all about?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I don't know really," Harry shrugged "Something about getting to know us better. He, uh, seems to collect people."

Ron mumbled something intelligible, while Ginny still sneaked glances at him. Then they finally arrived at Hogwarts.

They settled at the Gryffindor table. The first years were sorted after the Sorting Hat had once again and more urgently than before warned them to unite the houses. Slughorn was introduced and received a polite applause from all houses, though of course most came from the Slytherin table.

Harry felt the gazes of Zabini and Malfoy on him. Looking up he raised an eyebrow at the two to see a sneering Pansy arguing with Zabinie, while drapping herself half over Malfoy, who in turn seemed quite desperate to get rid off her, as he sat perched on the side of his chair in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle seemed oblivious to anything going on around them, while they stuffed their mouthes in a Dudley like manner.

He gave Draco an amused smirk at his predicament and Draco scowled, which was the usual way they responded to each other, of course, but there was no real loathing in it any longer. It seemed almost forced, as if he found himself liking his rival despite himself but was too wary to give in to that inclination.

Zabini did not look at him any longer but as he followed his gaze he realized that he stared at Ginny instead. Interesting. Probably he wondered what they had talked about on the train.

Since Harry had fed himself quite well over the holidays, he for once did not devour his food like he usually did at the feast at the beginning of the year, but savoured the taste of his Hogwarts favourites. He had worked extremely hard over the summer to cultivate his table manners to an refined and easy going elegance. Ron however still ate like a pig and was quietly admonished by Hermione.

Finally the feast was over and with an "Off you trott" that only Dumbledore, in his eccentric ways would consider an appropriate way to address his students, they were sent to their dormitories.

In front of the Great Hall they had their usual run in with the Slytherins. Harry was inclined to see what they were up to and determined not to let his mouth run off as usual, but it seemed Ron was of another mind.

"So did you have a nice trip visit your daddy in Azkaban over the holidays, ferret? Or wait prisoners are not allowed to have visitors, are they?" he said gloatingly.

Draco drew his wand and snarled "Watch it, weasel"

Harry felt himself get angry at Ron as well. He had not been conscious of this rather ugly side of his friend's personality, before. It was all a matter of perspective, he assumed. It was a rather cheap shot.

"Ron that was uncalled for." he remarked.

Ron spluttered "What is it with you? You're defending the ferret now? How often did he badmouth your parents?"

Harry's features darkened and he hissed "Leave it, will you?"

Ron stormed off, muttering something about Harry turning into an evil snake and not being able to think with his head, whatever that was supposed to mean. Hermione looked stricken between Harry and Ron. Harry gave Hermione a tiny nod and she hurried after Ron. Harry turned to Malfoy, who had turned a brilliant shade of red.

"I don't need you to defend me."

"I know that" Harry conceded "It's just that this bitching at each other gets rather old and what he said was really uncalled for." He left unsaid that he had felt rather hurt by Ron's shot at the loss of a parent and also that he thought that what he did was only fair.

Malfoy's scowl darkened at the reminder of just what Ron had said.

"Potter," snarled the voice of Snape, the infamous bat of the dungeons behind him "Causing trouble, again? Ten points from Gryffindor"

Resigned Harry turned his head to his least favourite Professor. He knew arguing the loss of points to be useless and really, while he had not caused any trouble in this case, Ron certainly had, which justified the loss of points. He inclined his head.

"Professor Snape, I will be on my way then." He nodded briefly to Malfoy and went off, readying himself for the unavoidable confrontation with Ron. Of course, Malfoy said nothing to set Snape straight about what had happened earlier.

"Not about to argue your cause, Potter?" the ugly bat spat.

Harry turned around and said as coolly as possible under the circumstances.

"No Sir, I don't think it would be of any use."

Damn, the bat always got under his skin, made it bristle with righteous anger at the unfairness he was treated with, but then he knew all too well that life was not fair, or he would still have his parents and there would not hang a prophecy over his head. He took a deep breath.

"If you would excuse me, sir?"

When he turned around to leave, he saw Snape open his mouth, sneering viciously and Draco shaking his head pleadingly at his head of house.

"Professor? Could you just let it go, please?"

Harry almost felt like throwing the earlier comment of "I don't need you to defend me." back at Malfoy, but then went just on his way. Somewhere deep inside it rather warmed him to see Draco defend him to his favourite Professor, but then Malfoy probably just wanted to get even.

In a dark mood, he entered the common room to see Ron sitting alone in a secluded corner, angrily muttering to himself. Harry approached him reluctantly. He might as well get this over with, have this over due conversation with his best mate, clear the air and be done with it.

"Ron," he said cautiously, unsure of how to begin.

Ron went off on a tirade "So you decided to get cozy with ferret boy of all people now.

"Err" said Harry, as once again his speaking skills departed him.

He took a deep breath.

"I just think that it is time to let that silly rivalry go and that comment about his father was way below the belt."

"Why? It's not like he would not say something similar. He's always mocked us and now you want to let that one opportunity slide to hit him were it really hurts."

Harry stared at him "Believe me, I know how much a degrading comment about the loss of ones parents hurts. Even if they had made mistakes, one cannot help but love them." His eyes blazed with fire, as he thought about his own father, who had turned out to have been far from the nice guy everyone had described him to be, but a had instead been a rather vindictive bully. That had really hurt to realize and he did not feel like discussing that with Ron just yet.

"There is a war in the brewing and all you think about is how to best antagonize Malfoy." he said instead.

"Exactly" Ron yelled "There is a war going on and you get cozy with the enemy. In case you forgot: His father is a Death Eater."

Harry sighed "His father is, but Draco is no more his father than I am mine. Give him the benefit of the doubt, will you? Besides what good do you think it would do to insult a Death Eater. You think he will die of anger or hurt pride?"

"He's a Slytherin!" Ron argued back in a rather whining voice, as if that said it all, deciding to miss out on the point of insulting possible Death Eaters.

That reasoning annoyed Harry to no end and he spat "In case you forgot, I was almost sorted into Slytherin myself. Am I evil myself now?"

"Of course not. You were sorted into Gryffindor instead, remember?" Ron said soothingly, as if it was that easy and for him it probably was.

"So Ron, am I evil to a lesser degree, because I somehow convinced the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor instead?" A rather vicious sneer graced his usually kind features by now.

"I cannot believe you, Ron. Really, is that what you think, what makes my presence more bearable to you? Maybe, I was just cunning enough to trick the Sorting Hat to put me into Gryffindor, huh?."

Harry knew he had let his mouth run off on its own by now, but he could not find himself to care. Ron could be so thick headed sometimes, well most of the times really. For him the world was still black and white, he had not had the same rude wake up call that had forced him to grow up so quickly and a small part of him envied Ron for that. The major part of him however was all the more annoyed at the way Ron foolishly clung to his childish beliefs that he himself had no longer the luxury to hold onto.

Again, Harry took a deep breath and went on, "You know, I'm still the same person, I'm still ambitious and cunning. That does not make a person necessarily evil, you know. Don't you think they'd have done something about a house of evil by now. Or are you the only one wise enough to see them for what they are? Besides, while I am cunning and ambitious, I'm also brave and somehow, I seem to have convinced the Sorting Hat that I'm more brave than cunning and ambitious."

"Huh" said Ron "I don't know."

"Gee thanks. Get over yourself, grow up for Merlin's sake. The world is not painted in black and white, and neither are all the other houses good little saints. Remember Scabbers?" Harry growled and went off to bed, where he drew the curtains, so he would not have to face anyone else that night. However, he was still far to angry too fall asleep.

Before the beginning of this year he had always somehow considered Malfoy the culprit who always started their fights, but looking back that had clearly not been the case. Certainly, Malfoy had an infuriating attitude problem, all well bred, little pureblood snob, but they had done their part to fuel the fire. Malfoy had not always been the one who had sought them out and had started their fights.

Ron definitely had to grow up or he would soon lose his patience. Sure, he liked Ron a lot. He was his first real friend after all, though he was far too hot headed. It would not really matter how reformed his own behaviour was towards the Slytherins proved to be, if Ron, who everyone knew to be his best friend, could not keep his mouth shut. Besides, Ron really was in the wrong this time and he felt not inclined to support him in that, even for the sake of their friendship. Sadly he realized that it might very well come to that, thick headed as Ron tended to be. With a heavy heart Harry finally fell asleep.

The next morning, he sat down at his usual spot in the great hall. Hermione already sat across from him, as usually with a big book in front of her. She smiled at him.

"Morning Harry"

"Hi Hermione. Studying already?" he smiled back at his friend.

"Oh no, just some light reading."

Harry grinned. He knew what Hermione considered light reading.

He saw a flash of red hair next to him and as he turned around he saw Ron, heading at the other end of the table. So apparently they were back to ignoring each other like in fourth year. Although it hurt how easily his supposedly best friend turned on him, he could not bring himself to care much about Ron's attitude. He really had more important things to do than to concern himself with Ron's mood swings.

As he helped himself to breakfast with a grim smile at Hermione, he saw that half of the Slytherins in his year were looking at them and whispering among themselves. Clearly, they had witnessed the drift between Ron and himself and had made the connection between Harry defending Malfoy to Ron and them not sitting together. Brilliant, just what he needed. How he despised to be the subject of rumours, though now that he really thought about it, it might indeed be just what he needed.

If Slytherin started to discuss the changes in him, they might actually change their perception of him as the righteous Gryffindor golden boy. Maybe, they'd be just a little more inclined to consider him as a possible ally, when he finally approached them? That certainly was a long shot, but unknowingly he had just planted the seeds, when he had defended Malfoy against his best friend. In a far better mood, he turned to his breakfast.

Hermione watched him and then said "You are up to something."

Harry eyed her and said "Well, yeah house unity and all that? I'm getting old. I'd rather spend my time and energy on something more productive than petty house rivalries."

Hermione's smile broadened. He preferred to not seem too calculating. Hermione expected him to do this, because it was the right thing to do and while that was one of his reasons as well, he would not put that much energy into his self assigned new project, if it did not fit into the greater picture of his plans. The more he made use of his Slytherin qualities, the more he felt the need to pose in front of his friends. The problem with Hermione was that she always had a clear picture of the right thing to do and what one was supposed to think on any topic and she always tried to make sure that everyone else followed her in that, like with SPEW really.

If she thought he had simply seen the error of his ways, he was sure to have her full support. He only hoped she would not make any badges or form any odd named organisation for the cause. He shuddered. Hermione was so eager and passionate and in her bashful efforts to do the right thing that if she set her mind on saving a couple of trees she would not even realize that she had burned down the rest of the forest. The Slytherins would clearly not appreciate to be treated like an care of magical creatures project.

Harry thought about lending _A Guide for the young Pureblood _to her. If she wanted to fit in, she really needed to know about wizarding customs and traditions. It was clearly not only the issue of blood that turned the purebloods against Hermione, but the self righteousness with which she judged the culture she had, like himself, yet to truly become a part of.

However, he would have to carefully explain his reasoning to Hermione, or she would go off on him in a huff and no longer be willing to listen. Hermione was so sensitive, when it came to not knowing something.

She also would not like to hear that partly it was her own attitude, which caused her ongoing exclusion from the wizarding world. While Hermione had a brilliant mind and was a powerful witch, hell was indeed the most promising student in their year, she also stood out the most of all muggleborns, maybe apart from the Creevy brothers, he mused.

"We'll talk about that later, alright." he said.

Hermione nodded cheerfully with that certain radiance to her that always made him queasy about what ideas on the matter at hand might pop into her head, as it usually meant she wanted to push him along into whatever awkwardness she had cooked up, like SPEW.

"What about the Room of Requirement tonight after dinner?" Harry asked, already steeling himself mentally for that discussion.

"Alright" Hermione said briskly.

Harry studied his timetable and noted that as usual he had Potions first thing on Monday mornings. So he and Hermione set of to the dungeons.

Upon entering the class room he saw that it had not the same gloomy atmosphere as when Snape had taught the class.

Harry had reread all of his old school books over the summer, including Potions, even though he had not thought he would be admitted to the NEWT Potions, as he had not gotten the O that Snape had required for this class, while Slughorn had lowered the required OWL score to an E.

This however had given him an incentive for independent study and to his surprise he had rather enjoyed the subject, which without somebody breathing down his neck had somewhat reminded him of a mixture of cooking and chemistry.

So as he now had caught up with the basics and had begun to understand the reasons why potions had the effects they had, he felt quite well prepared for this class. With a new unbiased teacher he could start afresh. Thankfully he had bought his new potions book along with his other school books, intend on continuing his private studies.

Ron sat as far away from Harry as he could by still remaining in the class room, giving Malfoy and Harry equally loathsome looks, which Harry ignored, while Malfoy in turn smirked smugly at Ron. Harry sighed. He really did not feel like being in the middle of one of their arguments, again. Ron's scowl deepened, but as he opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something rather stupid, as Harry thought, Slughorn turned up to start the lesson.

As it turned out Slughorn was far from unbiased. Due to his mother having been a supposed potions genius, Slughorn seemed to have equally high expectations of him. Alright, so he could identify Amortentia, the strongest knwon love potion, Felix Felices, the liquid luck potion, and Veritaserum correctly, due to his summer readings, but so could Hermione and Malfoy for that matter.

Slughorn fawned over him, intend on getting into the good graces of the Chosen One, no doubt, which made Harry all the more disgusted with the man. He really had to make an effort not to sneer at him, whose grovelling instead gave him a nervous twitch to his left eyebrow and he was no longer sure, whether he preferred Slughorn's constant praise over Snape's unwavering sneering and constant jibes.

Sometime during the lesson Ron's cauldron blew up, as in his anger, he had apparently grinded the valerian roots, rather than cutting them. Without a comment and a further glance at Ron Slughorn vanished the mess from Ron's desk and demanded a short essay from him on why his mistake had caused the explosion due to the next lesson.

Nevertheless, Harry could prove to himself that he had brought himself quite adequately up to speed, when he was one of the only three, besides Hermione and Malfoy to have brewed the Draught of the Living Dead successfully, which however only earned himself the bottle of Felix Felices, while the other two got nothing. Did teachers ever get this right?

Harry looked at Malfoy's scowling face and gave him an rueful smile. Hermione huffed next to him, looking rather annoyed, as she stormed off alone. Ron shoved him aside and left as well. Sighing Harry packed his back to go on to charms on his own, again under the attentive eyes of the Slytherins, who while they kept their distance, had not made any rude comments so far, either.

Harry kind of breezed with ease threw all of his lessons and by dinner time Hermione seemed to have come over her wounded pride, finally seeing reason and acknowledging that it was not his fault that their knew teacher was as biased as Snape.

In fact, she seemed rather proud of the obvious progress he had made in all of his lessons, as if that had been somehow her doing. Harry resented her a bit for that. After all it was rather his knew found determination to put an end to his war that had made him study harder and gave his magic an intent an focus that had not been there before. However, he was so glad to have her no longer mad at him, however unjustified it had been, that he did not mention it.

While he chatted amicably with Hermione and Ginny at the dinner table, Ron approached with a look on his face that could only mean trouble. Obviously, he had let his rage simmer all day, so that by now it was boiling over.

"Ginny get away from that snake." Ron tried to order his sister, grabbing her arm in an attempt to pull her away from Harry.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny growled annoyed, wrenching her arm free.

"He," Ron pointed at Harry "turned into a snake. Get away from him, Ginny. Come on." he claimed loudly, once again grabbing Ginny's arm.

"You've really lost it, have you?" Ginny growled. "Now let go off me."

Ron yelled "You know, he got almost sorted into Slytherin . He got only into Gryffindor, because he tricked the Sorting Hat into it."

"So what. So he had an option other than Gryffindor. I got almost sorted into Ravenclaw, remember?" Hermione bristled.

"That's different!" Ron exclaimed and made shushing motions, so that she would no longer derail him off the topic.

By now every head in the Great Hall had turned to them. Conversation had ceased and everyone was intently watching their argument. Ron was still pulling rather forcefully at Ginny's arm, who was now standing up and yelled,

"Let go off me, you git . Now!" The silent "or else" hang threateningly in the air.

"I am still your older brother," Ron puffed out his chest. "You will no longer hang out with that snake. You will come with me now."

He violently tugged at her arm , screaming, "And besides, there is no use hanging around him anyway, you know. He is as queer as they come."

Harry had wisely stayed out of this argument between brother and sister, as he knew that Ginny could not stand well meaning protectiveness and could indeed very well handle the matter on her own, but now he guffawed disbelievingly at his former best friend, who had just outed him in front of the Great Hall. It was not that he was ashamed of being gay, but Ron knew very well that he was an extremely private person. Ron had definitely crossed a line.

"Well I did not know that a Lion, which you as the self proclaimed eptimone of Gryffindor clearly are supposed to be, is that much of a backstabbing git." Harry sneered viciously.

Ginny was beyond furious. She backhanded her brother.

"Contrary to you, I know what true friendship means. You have just again turned on the best friend you could possibly have. I just hope he wont be that forgiving this time."

Hermione screeched "Ronald Weasley, I can't believe you."

And then far too quickly for anyone to tell how exactly it had happened, both Ginny and Hermione had drawn their wands on Ron, who landed in a heap on the floor, under the effect of Ginny's famous bat bogey hex and an rather odd assortment of differently coloured boils.

Harry himself sat motionlessly in his chair.

The Great Hall then broke into hushed whispers and Professor Mc Gonagall rushed to the scene, her lips drawn into a thin line. She did not have to ask what that had been about, as she, like everybody else in the Great Hall, had heard every word of the argument. She seemed at a loss at what to say, as she eyed Ron contemptuously.

"Never" she said "Never, in all my time as head of Gryffindor have I felt that ashamed of one member of my house, Ronald Weasley."

She did not at all seem to be in any hurry to cast the counters to the hexes. Though after a final look at Ron, she regretfully did so, then unceremoniously stunned him and floated him off to the hospital wing.

Looking back at Hermione and Ginny, the Head of Gryffindor said "I cannot let go your acts of violence in the Great Hall without punishment. Detention with me tomorrow night at eight."

She almost seemed unwilling to hand out any detention at all. Surprisingly, it was the ever rule abiding Hermione, who said quite satisfied with herself "Well that was well worth a detention."

Ginny nodded and growled fiercely "I'm truly ashamed to have to call that git my brother right now."

Harry felt like hiding under the table at least until the majority of the students had cleared out of the Great Hall, but of course he could not do that, as in that case he would be mocked and belittled forever. The only think to do really was to meet the issue head on. After all he was not ashamed of being gay, though he felt rather ashamed of his poor judgement when it came to his best friend.

So he squared his shoulders and watched the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws seemed to be in a rather spirited discussion about the Sorting Hat, while a few guys looked disturbingly hungry at him. He shuddered. The Hufflepuffs looked mostly confused, and the Slytherins were huddled together. Then Malfoy caught his eye, amusement and something else sparkling in his eyes, while his lips formed a slow satisfied smirk, of course, what else, Harry thought and rolled his eyes.

Finally he turned his attention back to the Gryffindor table. He got some uneasy but mostly curious looks. Lavender Brown leaned towards him and asked,

"So is it true? You are gay?"

"Yeah," Harry said "Not that it is anybody's business but my own, but yeah, I'm gay."

Colin Creevy looked scarily hopeful, which made him look like a lost puppy; figured really that Colin was gay now that he thought about it. And of course he had known that Colin was obsessed with him. Harry groaned. Now he would have to shake off the guy, who now clearly thought he had a chance, like the majority of the gay guys at Hogwarts, however many that might be. It wasn't that he considered himself as irresistible, though he feared that quite a lot of guys would fall enamoured with the idea of getting a piece of the bloody Chosen One.

"Save me." he whispered at Ginny and Hermione who looked sympathetically at him.

Then Ginny said, grinning evilly "On the bright side, you might spend your free time in the in however many different broom closets all over the school as you chose for the foreseeable future."

"Ugh" Harry decided to not further comment on that.

However, Ginny seemed to take a rather sadistic pleasure out of tormenting him with not all that unlikely but nevertheless dreadful prophecies.

"You know, you wont be limited to the Hogwarts population, when the Daily Prophet gets wind of this. You'll really get to pick from the best. I wonder, how many wicked proposals you'll get by owl on a daily basis?"

Harry groaned. He really did not need this. Ginny cackled evilly. Obviously, Colin had heard that, as he know looked quite ready to address Harry, before he had to go against more competition.

Harry whispered to Hermione and Ginny "Meet me in the Room of Requirement" and then fled from the Great Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Breathlessly, Harry came to a halt in front of the Room of Requirement, wishing fervently that nobody but Hermione and or Ginny could find him, so they could comfortably talk everything over. Upon entering the room, he moodily threw himself into a plush armchair.

As far as he had gathered, gay couples and even gay marriages were, if not that common, quite accepted in the wizarding world, not that he really cared that much, though it would be nice to not be snubbed for his sexual preferences, nice to truly belong for once, nice to not be once more considered a freak.

With the help of some potions homosexual couples could get children. So the demand of each individual in the wizarding world to produce magically strong offspring, in order to keep the wizarding community strong and healthy was clearly satisfied, but it also opened up far more possible pairings within the rather small and secluded pureblood community.

Nevertheless, homosexual pairings were not that common, which explained why he had not heard before of any official homosexual pairings or even marriages. Opposed to the usual arranged marriages, same sex marriages only came about, with natural homosexuals or as a last resort when no other suitable partner could be found, for whatever reason, although most homosexuals still found themselves in an arranged hetero marriage.

Another thing to consider was, of course, how the Slytherins would react to the news that he might have been one of them, that was, if they even believed it. Harry assumed that it would probably affect their perception of the way he acted, as from now on they would be more likely look for scheming in his actions. It might just make him seem a more worthy adversary. So his actions would still have to speak for themselves.

It was almost an hour later, when Ginny and Hermione crawled exhaustedly into the remaining two armchairs.

"Everyone wanted to ask us questions about you."

"Great," Harry said flatly.

Hermione and Ginny both blissfully closed their eyes for a moment. Harry let them enjoy their moment of quiet and then said,

"So what is everybody saying so far? Did me being the evil Slytherin in disguise drive any would be lovers away?"

"What do you think." Ginny asked sarcastically, "Quite the contrary of course. Apparently the bad boy image suits you. It gives you this certain flair of danger that is ah so sexy"

She snickered and Harry hid his head in the thick pillows of his armchair.

"Very funny" Then with a muffled voice he asked through the pillows he asked, "But seriously what is everyone thinking. Am I the devil incarnate, again or do they realize that Ron is completely nutters?"

Hermione said "Mostly they think Ron is being stupid, though they will probably watch you cautiously for some time."

"So you mean they will lay off harassing me for now?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Uh no. I don't think so. The more kinky ones among them will consider this even more an incentive to pursue you." Ginny leered suggestively at him.

"Ginny, you scare me to death."

"I'm a creative genius with six older brothers?" Ginny suggested and added as an afterthought, "Though Percy and Ron did not help much in that matter. Percy simply never talked about this bondage and spanking fetish he is supposed to have, according to Fred and George."

"Ginny!" Hermione screeched.

"Well, now I know at least why Ron was always so desperate to scare away your dates," Harry nodded to himself,"You have one hell of a dirty mind!"

"And it would have been a long time from now for you to find that out, had you not confessed to being gay," Ginny grinned.

"So" Hermione said briskly "I remember that we were going to meet here tonight to make plans to further house unity." She made a pause to increase the suspense a little. "I have thought about it and I think we should split up tasks, talk to people from different houses to persuade them to include the Slytherins more, as they seem to be the only ones to be really excluded. And we should meet regularly to report on our progress."

"Hermione," Harry said exasperated by her oblivious goodwill. "I know, you mean well, but you go about this the wrong way. The Slytherins are not some mistreated creatures, but some rather proud snobbish individuals. How do you think they would react to suddenly being _saved_ by you?"

"Well that is hardly the point. It would be for their own good. Besides they surely are only misunderstood," Hermione huffed, and glared at them, daring them to contradict her.

"That's ridiculous," Ginny said, "And besides how are you helping them by proclaiming them to be helpless and unable to stand up for themselves. They'd tear you to pieces and believe me, in their place I'd do the same."

"Hermione," Harry sighed "You are one of the brightest witches at Hogwarts, but you seriously lack social skills."

Hermione looked quite hurt at that.

"Haven't you ever wondered why most non muggleborn or halfbloods are so distanced towards you?"

"What are you saying" Hermione sniffed.

"You don't ever make the effort to get to know their culture, while judging everything, trying to change the way things are run, as if you alone knew better. They don't feel like defending their ways to somebody they consider an outsider. To them it feels like you are threatening the very existence of their world."

"But" Hermione spluttered "that's nonsense."

"It's not. I've been meaning to explain this to you for a long time now. I've just never known how to go about this." Ginny said.

Harry grimaced "I just found out this summer myself actually. There is a system to pureblood mania beyond racism, you know. I got my hands on this book _A Guide to the young Pureblood ."_

Ginny whistled "Heavy stuff that. Why did you of all people read that."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and Harry said offhandedly, _"_Know the Enemy and so on, you know and aside from the rather degrading language it gives an useful inside of the inner workings of pureblood society."

"Huh" Hermione huffed with puffy red eyes "Will you lend me the book?"

"Sure" Harry said "Just promise you will think about it for a bit? I'd really like to thoroughly discuss this with someone who knows the muggle world in great detail and come to think of it I'd like to discuss this from an in depth wizarding point of view as well."

"Originally, I had thought to ask Ron, but now would you be up for that job, Ginny ?" Harry asked making puppy dog eyes at her, which of course still had some effect on the formerly completely besotted witch.

"Well it's not like mum ever allowed me to read that book, as it's degrading to muggles and muggleborns. She figured it unfit for her children to read." Ginny admitted.

"So what did your mum teach you about wizarding customs and traditions?" Harry asked curiously.

Ginny stared thoughtfully into nothingness. "Not that much, mostly I just know what learns, while living in a wizarding household. My family is not all that traditional as you both know. We don't celebrate the traditional holidays, but rather have a magical version of the muggle holidays." Ginny shrugged.

"Of course, they consider us all the more blood traitors because of it."

"Oh Merlin" Harry muttered.

Only having stayed with the Weasleys so far, he really had not anticipated how deep the proverbial rabbit hole of wizarding customs ran.

_"_Wizarding holidays?" Hermione asked intrigued "You mean like the old druid holidays before Britain conformed to Christianity?" Ginny nodded.

_"_Oh, I've read about it. Do they still celebrate them in the old ways?" Hermione squealed excitedly "It's rather fascinating really"

"Hermione," Ginny took a deep breath "What you have so eagerly considered a new subject worth to study, are very sacred holidays to a lot of our fellow class mates. You may consider it over sensitive, but some of them are rather sensitive about being lectured about their own lives. I'm not saying that it's wrong to research, be curious and all that. It's rather how you go about this. You might lay off the lecture tone a little and sometimes ask, if you've got it right?"

Hermione was by now sobbing hard. "I didn't think. I merely wanted to proof to everyone that I am as much worth as any pureblood by being top of every class, showing off my knowledge and so on. I had not realized that it backfired like that"

Harry and Ginny smiled at Hermione.

"You know , you might as well simply ask your pureblood dorm mates what they do for their holidays. You still learn, but you most likely get first hand information of what to them it is really all about, instead of some theoretical drivel that most people don't care much about anyway." Ginny suggested.

Hermione nodded slowly and Harry added,

"Of course, you can still read up on the theory. You wouldn't be Hermione, if you didn't do some background reading"

"Maybe you are right about the _know the enemy _issue and I really should read this book. How can I possibly fight prejudices, I don't understand or even know about." Hermione sniffed.

With that said they decided to meet again, when Hermione had read the book and left the Room of Requirement to arrive just before curfew in the common room.

Everyone aside from Ron, who thankfully was nowhere to be seen, seemed to have waited up for Harry's return as all eyes turned to him, when the portrait let them in.

How the bloody hell did he deserve this? How by all things holy had he gotten himself into that mess, again? Oh right, he had foolishly been friends with the great prick Ronald Weasley. So really for that he did have himself to blame, though Ron would pay of course, oh how he would pay, in a way that everybody - aside from Ron - of course, got a laugh out off it, letting them at the same time choking in fright at the thought of what he might do to them, if they ever dared to cross him in a similar way.

Carefully keeping his face void of any particular emotion, he went up into his dormitory, where he quickly stripped of his clothes and put one of the long t-shirts he usually slept in.

There was a hand wandering up his legs and another one was brushing over his stomach to his chest, rubbing over his right nipple, giving it a small tug, then there was a leg between his thighs and something hard was brushing over his stomach. Harry's eyes snapped open and stared into the sweetly smiling face of Seamus Finnegan. Harry snarled

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Harry" his dorm mate for over five years now purred "Making out with you, obviously, though if you'd rather, I blow you..."

"Get off me now!" Harry snarled, but Seamus was rubbing himself against him, definitely not about to leave him alone.

"But Harry think about it with you gay and me gay, sleeping in the same dorm has gotten so much more interesting."

Harry threw his knee up and strongly connected it with Seamus' balls, while hauling himself up and throwing the guy off his bed.

"Listen to me very carefully. If you ever dare to touch me again, I will bring your sorry ass in front of the Wizengamot and will sue you, or whatever is left of you after I've finished with you, for sexual harassment."

Seamus still lay in a heap on the floor, his face scrunched up in pain, when Harry grabbed some fresh school robes and stormed out of his dorm and out of Gryffindor.

Once again he ran to the Room of Requirement, this time getting it to open up for him. Inside he found an extremely nice bathroom with a tub, already filled with nicely scented bubbles. Laying in the tub, he cast a tempus charm, which informed him that it was only half past five. One and half an hour before breakfast would be served in the Great Hall. He might just as look up some good warding spells and nasty jinxes in the library, while he had the time.

The next hour he spent with his nose in various books, from time to time he laughing gleefully. Actually he was looking for something that was embarrassing the offender, as well as giving a painful reminder not to cross him without causing any lasting damage. He came across the jinx that Hermione had used on the parchment they had signed for the DA and added it to his list. In the end, he decided that he should look into wards more deeply, anyway.

At breakfast he was once again surrounded by whispers. The first years were gaping openly at him. When he thought that his day could not get any more annoying, Colin Creevy sat across from him and promptly proved him wrong.

"Hiya Harry" he said cheerily. Harry nodded at him, resigned to what was to come.

"Um, would you like to go out with me?" Colin asked hopefully.

"No" Harry snarled.

"Sorry," Colin said and Harry thought the conversation was over, when Colin asked

"Am I too late. You are already interested in somebody else, are you. I should have told you sooner then. I mean, I've fancied you since first year really, but I wasn't sure, if you were gay. I mean, you dated Cho Chang and all. So I didn't say anything. I didn't think, I'd have a chance." Colin rambled on earnestly.

"You didn't have a chance and you wont ever have." Harry bit back, maybe a little too harshly.

After all Colin was a sweet guy and nice enough, but his hero worship stretched his already thin nerves painfully and really it took longer than one summer to rein in his hot temper. Colin's lip quivered.

"Brilliant, now you've made him cry," Harry thought.

Colin however, was not a foolishly courageous Gryffindor for nothing and therefore he was not that easy to get rid of, as he prattled on,

"So you are interested in somebody else then?"

"Leave it Colin," Harry said tiredly and felt his next headache greeting him cheerfully like an all too common acquaintance.

All day long he was followed by hushed whispers and stares. Heads turned wherever he went, puncturing his nerves and stimulating his headache, but otherwise it was a day as any other day for Harry Potter as Hogwarts.

It was almost comforting that Snape was his usual malicious self, whether he taught potions or DADA. He had even exported the dooming atmosphere from his potions classroom to the room in the dungeons, where he the DADA class took place. On the walls hung various gruesome pictures of people under Dark Arts spells. Snape began his lecture.

"The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which each time a neck is severed, sprouts a new head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting a that which is unfixed, mutating indestructible."

Harry listened very attentively to Snape's words. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress to his voice? Snape had been practicing the Dark Arts as a Death Eater, he obviously new what he was talking about, although he sounded still too fond of them. He needed to learn about them as much as he could, though. If Snape was the one to glean that knowledge from, so be it.

"Your defences" Snape continued "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo." Harry took very detailed notes, deciding to ponder on what he'd learned so far later on. Luckily, Snape simply ignored him for the most part.

After Hermione had left for her very first detention ever and Ginny went along with her to one of not yet so many detentions after dinner, Harry sought refuge in a secluded corner in the very back of the library, as the Room of Requirement strangely enough did not open. He had brought one of his own new books along, which he now continued to read in his hiding spot.

It was an historical report of the witch hunts in the Middle Ages, which drew a much more sinister picture of the event than their breach of the topic in history of magic had let him to believe. The book described in great detail how the inquisitors had hunted down unsuspecting witches and wizards who were supposedly obsessed by the devil.

In history of magic it the vicious persecution of witches and wizards had been presented almost as a fun pastime for witches and wizards, who had been repeatedly burned to their own entertainment. According to this book especially young witches and wizards had often enough not been able to defend themselves.

Ironically, they had tortured more muggles into admitting to having performed magic than actual magicians, but nevertheless, the sheer number of witches and wizards killed of by muggles had taken it's toll on the magical community, which had only been eight percent of the entire European population to begin with.

A grave plague had had magicians and muggles alike in it's clutches. It had been called the pest, and whispered about as the Black Death. Neither muggles nor magicians had been able to find an entirely reliable cure to the illness, although magicians turned out to be overall a little more resistant to the plague, due to their ingrained magically infused self healing abilities. Thus the muggles suspected the magicians to be the culprits, when food become harder and harder to come by as the civilisation plunged into chaos.

Long before the beginning of the plague muggles had been aware of the existence of magicians and other magical species. They had had been an honoured part of the Preroman British society. They had been sought after as seers, healers, warriors and even advisors.

Then their influence had dimmed over time, when Britain became part of the Roman Empire, as with them the Christian priests came along. When the muggle King Arthur finally conformed to Christianity, under the pressure of his muggleborn wife, who had clutched onto her Christian upbringing and belief that magic was the act of the devil, magicians had been banned from Camelot and started to live more and more secluded on the dim borders of muggle society, where they still traded their services with muggles.

However, magicians were scorned upon by the Christian priests, who had by that time firmly ruled the country. They considered the mere existence of magic among human beings an insult to their almighty god. So the magical beings faded more and more from the memories of muggles, until they became little more than myths and bedtime stories for children. While most other magical races had sealed of their world completely from the muggles, magical humans were one of the few, who stayed behind on the borders to the muggle world and as such on the borders of their consciousness as well.

The witch hunt in time of the plague however, had been in fact cooked up by the squib, Heinrich Kramer in Germany, who had been jealous of the power of the magicians surrounding him. He had lived with his mother and sister in an all magical community, closed off from the muggle world. The Kramers had a high social ranking among their community and while his father had died when he was little, his mother and sister had been both powerful witches. When Heinrich by his fourteenth birthday had yet to show any sign of magical ability, his mother had cursed him impotent, so that what they considered a handicap amongst magicians would be eliminated in its roots. Heinrich had then run off to the muggle world and had become a Christian priest, set on the destruction of the magical world and of women in general, in revenge to his mother and sister.

Heinrich Kramer's most infamous deed had been the publishing of the _Malleus Maleficarum_, which had then fuelled the fires of the witch hunt, which burned the brightest in Germany, but would finally spread over the whole world. The muggles were all too ready to make the magicians scapegoats for all their troubles, while at the same time turning in suspicion mercilessly on their own population.

Mainly they had tortured and burned muggle women, who had been too pretty, too ugly, too clever or had in any other way stood out. Quite often muggles denounced a woman to be a witch simply for being a nuisance. The witch hunts had given ruthless muggles a useful tool to get effortlessly rid of somebody.

It was a rather sinister tale full of unjust, despair and hate, which Harry drank in with rapid attention. Again, there was no black and white, only shades of grey, twisted into a vicious knot of fear and received unjust multiplied returned. Here lay the roots for magicians' contempt towards squibs, muggles and muggleborns bare before his eyes.

Harry was so deeply absorbed in his reading that at he did not remark Malfoy's presence, until he heard the amused drawl.

"Hiding Potter?"

Harry looked up slowly and saw Malfoy leaning casually against a bookcase, his trademark smirk firmly in place, but Harry also saw amusement in his eyes that for once lacked malicious intent. Harry reverently marked his page, shut the book and hid it back in the folds of his robes.

"Malfoy" Harry nodded, deciding to play nice.

"So do you just prefer to get cozy on the floor between some dusty old tomes, or are you indeed hiding?" Malfoy asked.

"Hiding actually," Harry reluctantly admitted.

"So why did you think that this spot was a good hiding place?" Malfoy asked dubiously.

"I didn't think anybody would come to this part of the library," Harry answered.

Malfoy looked around. "I'd think not." he sneered at the long lines of books on householding charms.

"So this is your usual hiding spot?" Malfoy snickered.

"No" Harry said shortly, slightly annoyed at the elusive Room of Requirement. Malfoy smirked.

"So where is your usual hiding spot?"

"Would not be a lot of use as a hiding spot, if I'd tell you, would it?" Harry answered haughtily with a smirk of his own.

"So you were almost sorted into Slytherin?" Malfoy leaned forward a bit. Harry nodded.

"But you convinced it to put you into Gryffindor?"

"No," Harry shook his head ruefully.

"So how is it you are in Gryffindor?"

"I asked it to put me anywhere but Syltherin." Harry confessed.

Malfoy's eyes widened.

"Salazar! Why?"

Harry sighed and warned him,

"You wont like this."

Malfoy brushed his comment aside.

"Well?" "Do you remember, when we first met at Madam Malkin's?" Harry begann and Malfoy nodded.

"You were the first magical child I'd ever met, hell one one of the few magical people I'd actually talked to since I new I was a wizard," Harry continued but was interrupted by Malfoy.

"What do you mean? When did you find out?"

Harry looked at him.

"The day before we met, Hagrid told me at midnight."

"Excuse me?" Malfoy scoffed.

"The night my parents died, Hagrid brought me to my mother's sister, a muggle, under Dumbledore's orders. My aunt had despised my mother for being a witch. So they told me that my parents had died in a car accident, though they knew what had really happened. Dumbledore had sent them a letter along with me. So they knew I was magical, just like my mother and every time something unusual happened, they would take it out on me. Their son, Dudley got everything he wanted, while I got nothing at all. Then, after the hundreds of Hogwarts letters did not get to me Hagrid came, told me that I was a wizard and gave me my first ever birthday cake."

Draco looked more stunned the further Harry got with his tale.

"So when Hagrid brought me to Diagon Alley, I was so full of hope that from then on everything would be alright."

Harry was uncomfortably aware that he was on the way to lay his formerly carefully guarded secrets bare before his rival, who might as well enjoy to taunt him all the more for it.

"Then I met you in Diagon Alley. You were so sure of yourself, knew that you belonged into Slytherin, while I for the most time had no idea what you were talking about. You talked about talking your father into buying you a broom and insulted Hagrid , the first person, who had ever stood up for me." Harry took a deep breath.

"You reminded me of my cousin."

"I reminded you of your **muggle** cousin?" Draco snarled incensed and Harry just went on.

"On the train I got to know Ron and made my first ever friend, who you then insulted. You expected me to take sides. After those first impressions I chose Ron. After you had left, Ron told me about the evilness of Slytherin, that this had been Voldemort's house. So when I put the sorting hat on, I pleaded with it to put me anywhere but Slytherin. It reluctantly agreed to put me into Gryffindor instead." Harry concluded.

Malfoy slid on the floor next to Harry. How he managed to look graceful, while sitting on the the floor, leaning against a dusty bookcase with his knees brought up to his chest was a mystery to Harry.

"Salazar! "he whistled "So Gryffindor was the hat's second choice?"

Harry nodded, "It was rather hard to convince."

Both of them sat silently for a while.

"So you still think Slytherins are all evil?" Draco asked.

Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "Hell, no. I know that I am not evil, it's not like the sorting hat had modified my personality by putting me into Gryffindor. The hat told me I would be great in Slytherin, though, that it's all there in my head. This summer I came about to have some extremely ambitious plans and decided to cash in on my Slytherin qualities. It doesn't really matter in which dorm I sleep at night for ambition and cunning."

Harry knew that what he was doing now was an extremely costly gamble. If he gave up too much at once, Malfoy would consider him a spluttering and far too trusting fool, not worth his time and further consideration. Giving up too little, however, would allow him to forget about the whole thing, though Malfoy might still be used to his unscheming Gryffindor attitude. Then, however, at the moment he was trying to suss him out as a fellow snake, which would make him all the more aware of Harry's loan of trust to him. Syltherin's really did perform subtle snake like verbal dances to unravel others' aims.

Malfoy eyed him thoughtfully. "Why are we having this friendly chat right now? Shouldn't you snap at me or something."

Harry smiled at him. "Like I said on the train, we were eleven when this stupid rivalry started. I have grown up and frankly speaking, I have more important things to do than on silly fights on the school yards."

"Yeah, alright. I've got other things to occupy my time with, as well. It's not like it was always me who started the fights." Malfoy bristled defensively.

Harry nodded."I know that, but you've been a challenging rival all those years.".

Malfoy gave Harry his first real smile, not a smirk, but a real smile and it alightened his haughty features with surprising beauty.

"You too," Malfoy whispered wistfully.

"You hate muggles then?" Malfoy asked bluntly.

"No," said Harry, "I'd just rather magicians and muggles mixed as little as possible."

"But your muggle relatives treated you that badly." Malfoy said disbelievingly. "How could you possibly not hate them?"

"They did and I can freely admit to hating them for what they did to me." Harry conceded and then added "Most muggles are not so bad. A lot of them are nice people"

Malfoy blinked confusedly."I don't understand you."

Harry gave him a half smile. "I'd love to continue this conversation some time in the future. I've thought a lot about Slytherin's take on muggles over the summer, but I only partially agree."

He had Malfoy hooked now, he knew that by the look in Malfoy's eyes. He had won his gamble. While he had certainly still have to earn Malfoy's trust and it was as of yet completely unsure, whether or not Malfoy would side with him, he had unmistakenly picked his interest.

"It's almost curfew though. We'd better get back." He added.

What he had told Malfoy just now should keep Malfoy contemplating for the next couple of days.

Before settling in to sleep Harry put the wards and jinxes on his bed. Somewhat gleefully he waited for the first person that tried to make advances on him. He was extremely curious as to how the various jinxes effect the offender. He did not know for sure how exactly the jinxes would blend together, though he was certain that the result would be striking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next days were just normal days in the life of one Harry Potter. He was pierced with suspicious looks, smothered with admiring glances and swam along in the whispers of rumours, circling around him. There was nothing unusual to it really. So the waves of unwanted attention that once again came his way should not bother him any longer. After all those were just normal days in the life of Harry Potter. So Harry kept his focus intently on his studies.

Then Wednesday evening Dobby popped into the library, where Harry had started to spent a lot of his freetime recently.

"Harry Potter, sir." Dobby jumped excitedly up and down. "A message from Dumbledore Harry Potter, sir."

_Dear Harry,_

_I would like to start private lessons with you this Sunday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first days back at school._

_Yours sincerly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.s.: I enjoy Acid Pops_

What did Dumbledore want with him now? Last year he would have given everything for Dumbledore to talk to him, but now he still felt some left over apprehension for the headmaster. He believed that he had only meant the best for Harry, but still Harry could not help but feel things would have turned out much different, had he been better informed. After all the withheld information had concerned him, but then the path to hell was said to be paved with good intention.

Dumbledore had sent him to the Dursley's, killing every opportunity for what normal people considered a childhood and then he had withheld information in order to save that very non existing childhood and had by that indirectly killed Harry's last chance to have family. Dumbeldore had really fucked up. With this chain of good intentions Dumbledore had spurned one disaster after another at him.

While he was not as enthusiastic as before about a meeting with the headmaster, he had knowledge a lot of obscure branches of magic and he offered Harry lessons and Harry was determined to learn all he could.

Harry turned to the still over excited house elf.

"So how are you Dobby?"

"Oh Harry Potter is the greatest wizard ever. Harry Potter asks about Dobby. Dobby is doing great."

"That's great Dobby. How is Winky doing."

Dobby's ears dropped. "Oh not well at all. Butterbeer is no good for a houseelve. Winky drinks too much. Not well at all. Winky wishes for a family. The other houseelves is saying Winky is a bad houseelve"

Harry smiled sadly, "I'm sure you're doing all you can to help Winky. I'll visit the kitchens soon. I'll see, if I can help somehow."

"Oh the great Harry Potter is so kind, even helping houseelves." Dobby jumped up and down.

"But that's what one does for his friends and you are a great friend Dobby."

"Harry Potter calls Dobby a friend!" Dobby wailed and hugged Harry's legs, while Harry pet the soft hairs on his head.

"Dobby is your friend!" Dobby exclaimed proudly.

"I know you are," said Harry smiling "One of only a few. I know I can trust you. You have a good heart and are always loyal." Dobby hugged him even more tightly.

Then Harry started to pour his heart out to the houseelve about Ron's betrayal. By the time he had stopped talking, Dobby's eyes had a protective glow to it.

"The Wheezy will be very sorry. Dobby makes him sorry," Dobby nodded to himself.

"I have an idea of how to make him pay actually," said Harry.

"Can Dobby help?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how to make it work, yet. Basically, I want him to receive all the unwanted attention I get now due to his actions. I want all of those stupid letters and gifts I might get be redirected to him. Instead of my name I want his name spelled out."

"Dobby can do that," Dobby cried excitedly.

"Wow," said Harry "That's great. Then I will simply need to put some kind of self reflecting confounding charm on him, so everybody focuses their attention on him instead of me, whenever we are in the same room. You're brilliant, Dobby!"

"Oh Harry Potter is so kind!" Dobby exclaimed.

On Thursday at breakfast the Daily Prophet had finally caught up with the news and the article he had dreaded ever since Ron had publicly outed him as gay and as a closet Slytherin had been published. Harry himself had long quit reading that crap, as it published hardly ever anything interesting, but acted as a gossip and ministry mouth pipe. He knew immediately though, when a swarm of owls with letters and packages came Ron's way.

Ron, that git, at first looked like he couldn't believe his luck but then his face started to look flustered, when he read through the mail. Harry was quite sure that all of his admirers were male. Harry smirked to himself and knew he owed Dobby a big thank you.

"Hermione, Do you think I can sue the Daily Prophet for this?" Harry then sighed. He still did not feel inclined to let the Daily Prophet run all over him once again.

"Why do you seem so awfully set on sueing somebody this days. After all, every gay wizard will be delighted to hear about your preferences," Seamus huffed a few seats away from him.

Harry looked at him "Why? It would spare me the hassle to throw hexes left and right, of course. It gets rather annoying you know."

Hermione's look brightened "Why haven't I thought of this before? We'd better get our hands on the article before though."

"Here," Neville pushed his paper to Harry.

"Thanks Neville," Harry said and immersed himself in the article. As it turned out it was indeed as bad as he had feared.

_**The Chosen One Gay? **_

_Young ladies all over the Britain will be devastated as rumours has it that the Chosen One is gay. Taking into consideration that the source of this rumour is Ronald Weasley, best friend of our hero boy for five years know, leads us to assume that Harry Potter is indeed gay._

_Harry Potter had been believed to date his other best friend, muggleborn Hermione Granger in fourth year, which both of them however demented shortly after. Hermione Granger had at the time indeed dated the Bulgarian quidditch star Victor Krum. Harry Potter himself, however, had had little romance in his life so far. In his fifth year he went on a date with the Ravenclaw Cho Chang, which witnesses described as an awkward affair. Harry Potter is not known to have dated or shown any interest in any other girls. This is hard to believe of a boy that popular. Did Harry Potter maybe have a secret relationship and were his dates guys? Ladies it seems indeed all hope is lost and gentleman you might indeed yet get to date Harry Potter..._

The article went on and on for several pages still, but Harry had had enough.

"Look at this drivel!" he pushed the article towards Hermione, who started to read, her face scrunched up.

He glared at Ron, who looked not concerned all, but rather put out that his actions Harry had gained him once again attention that he himself craved but hardly ever got. Oh Ron would get attention, alright, he would suffer from it, get as sick of it as Harry himself already was. Harry would make sure of it.

Harry turned once again to his breakfast, while around him, everybody discussed the article. Forcing himself to chew he watched the other house tables. The Ravenclaws were now all clustered around Cho. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Now they'd warm up their disastrous date. It was great to be Harry Potter. At the Slytherin table Pansy Parkinson read the article aloud to her peers, while ones again snuggling in to Malfoy, who again did not seem enthusiastic about her affections and was apparently edging away from her as far as he could without being too obvious. The Slytherins as a whole did not seem all that interested, as it was hardly something they had not already known. Malfoy however gave Harry an amused smile, not a smirk, startling as it was, a smile, again.

"I would say you can indeed sue them." said Hermione "I can look up the laws in the library for you she offered, handing the paper back to Neville. "Though I'd recommend you hire a lawer."

"Fine" said Harry "It'd be probably a good idea to have one on hand anyway." Hermione nodded.

"So how do I go about finding a lawyer?"

Hermione breathed in, apparently to start a rather long winded explanation, when Neville piped up,

"I could recommend you to our family lawyer."

Harry smiled "Thanks Neville. That would be great."

Neville nodded "I'll write to him then, if you want. He can contact you then."

Harry nodded gratefully at him "So that's settled then."

Neville had started to turn into a much more self assured and skilful young wizard, after Bellatrix Lestrange's, his parents' tormentor, break out off Azkaban. It showed in the way he held himself and in the quiet confidence in his voice. In the DA he had been the one who had progressed most of all. Now this year he had also remarkably improved in all of his classes, an ongoing progress which might also have been enhanced by the fact that he now owned his own wand, instead of the one of his father's.

Neville had always stayed hidden in the background, really belonging to neither of the groups of friends that had been formed in Gryffindor since first year. Neville was nice to have around though. He was loyal and possessed the quiet kind of courage, opposed to Ron's blustering. Belatedly, Harry realized that he had always shunned aside and forgotten about Neville to spent time exclusively with Ron and Hermione. He decided then and now to include Neville more into his activities.

Ron had spent most of his time alone these days alone, but now he was surrounded by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the Gryffindor queens of gossip, surely to be questioned about Harry's love life. Then after having the story generously polished up, they'd carry the juicy gossip to the other houses. Due to recent experiences, it seemed too much to hope Ron would refuse to give up any information on his private life, when it meant he was the centre of attention for a moment. What a prick really, but Ron's torment had only just begun.

On Sunday night a little earlier than eight o' clock Harry gave the password to the Gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's offices and found himself in the office shortly thereafter.

"Good evening Headmaster," he said politely.

"Ah good evening Harry," said the Headmaster.

Harry looked expectantly at the Headmaster. Whatever the headmaster wanted to teach him surely wasn't duelling, as there was no place suitable for practice, or they'd move to another room later on.

"So Harry," said Dumbledore in a businesslike voice "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these – for a want of a better word – lessons?"

"Yes sir"

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause.

"So you have not yet told me everything you know like you had promised me you would back in June, sir?" Harry asked in his new dangerously calm voice. Oh this man could be so infuriating.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore "I told you everything I know. From this forth, we shall be leaving the firm ground of fact and shall be journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickest wildest guesswork. From heron in, Harry, I might be as wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

So Dumbledore wanted to give him some kind of history lessons. He could see the reasoning behind it. His recent trips into history had proven rather helpful after all and as this was supposed to be about Voldemort it had probably to do with Voldemort's past. That fit well with his new motto of knowing the enemy. Nevertheless duelling lessons would be helpful as well. He would see what information Dumbledore had decided to part with him before approaching that topic though.

Dumbledore took out his pensieve and told him they would visit a memory of another. Harry learned that Voldemort's mother had come from an inbred pureblood family, which took pride in their Slytherin ancestry. His mother however was so magically weak that she almost might be considered a squib, while her father and brother were cruel, stupid and borderline insane. The whole family lacked any hint of Tom Riddle's handsome physic.

Maybe they were so inbred that their bodies could hold no more magic? There had never been heard of a handicapped magical child born ever. So maybe magic needed a healthy body? Tom Riddle had certainly been a physically healthy teenage boy, as far as he could tell from the diary image he had encountered in second year.

So maybe with the fresh blood his physic and his magic had been able to repair themselves, erasing the genetic defects that had been carried through the bloodline for generations?

Harry felt further confirmed in his theory, when he saw the spitting image of Tom Riddle, who the headmaster then pointed out to him as Voldemort's future father. Tom Riddle had resembled nobody of his mother's family at all and was instead the exact copy of his muggle father.

Harry wondered in how far genetics came into play with magic. Common believe was that magic was inherited, the only exception being muggleborns. Was there a magic gene or a combination of genetic factors that made a person magical? This line of thinking certainly merited further thought. He'd have to discuss this with Hermione, who probably had a firmer grasp on the topic.

Were all muggleborns then some kind of mutants, or were they maybe far descendants of squibs, if there was indeed a genetic factor to magic? Harry kept his thoughts to himself though, as he did not know yet where Dumbledore intended for this to go.

After that memory Dumbledore told Harry that they would meet soon, again. Harry felt rather annoyed that the Headmaster refused to tell him what the purpose of the story was supposed to be. Harry recognised the ring on Dumbledore's blackened hand as the one he had seen in the memory, but when asked the headmaster refused any answer on the matter, trying to console him that all would be revealed to him in due time. Not soon enough Harry felt. After all this was a serious matter and not some story telling to pass the time or so he had been told.

"Headmaster" Harry said with forced calm "So once again you are indeed withholding important information and expect me to simply trust your judgment. Everything to do with Voldemort concerns me directly, as you very well know. Therefore, I would appreciate it, if you would go on with the story and no longer withheld information from me, as you have promised in June."

His voice had a hard edge to it, which did not go unnoticed, as Dumbledore sighed and after the sad story of Merope's loveless and far too short life, he produced another memory. This one was Dumbledore's own memory.

The memory showed how Dumbledore brought Tom Riddle his Hogwarts letter to the muggle orphanage where he had grown up.

"He is a strange boy" Mrs. Cole had said.

Every magical child would be considered strange in the muggle world, as weird things were bound to happen around them. Was Tom Riddle bullied by his peers, when he had been younger and not yet able to control his magic? Harry's classmates had always kept their distance and this was only partly because they were afraid of Dudley, but also because they had thought him strange. A lot of his peers had mocked him from a far, along with Dudley, though not as cruelly as Dudley.

While the parents of muggleborns might love their children enough to not be freaked out by their kid's strange abilities, in an orphanage Tom Riddle had only been one of many orphans. Probably there had been nobody attached enough to the strange boy to overlook his strangeness. It was all too likely that Tom had been considered a freak just like Harry had been for all his time in the muggle world.

It might have been just a necessity for Tom to learn to control his magic early, in order to defend himself against bullies. Besides that, it merely proved that Tom Riddle had indeed been a magical powerful and highly intelligent child. Harry could not bring himself to see this eleven years old boy as Voldemort yet. All in all, he and that Tom Riddle had far too much in common.

So he had used his power to torment the other orphan's but that was just what a magical Dudley would do. After having been bullied for years, Tom had most likely basically turned the tables on his tormenters. He had probably bullied a lot of innocents along the way, as well, but that merely meant following the primal laws of nature, to eat or be eaten. If Harry had found a way to control his magic early, he would have retaliated as well and a small part of him was sorry that he had not have discovered the means to exert some revenge on his bullies.

Harry felt that the wizarding world had really fucked up, when it came to magical children raised in the muggle world. Maybe there would be no Voldemort to worry about, if Tom Riddle had been raised in a magical environment. He would have not been considered a freak. Tom would have never had a reason to hate muggles or to consider himself anything special. The adults around him could have exerted some control over the boy.

Harry wondered how the other muggle raised children at Hogwarts had been treated among muggles. Surely, a lot of them had been outcasts, as well? He had never asked Hermione, for instance, about her life before Hogwarts.

All in all, it might just be better to remove magical children from any muggle influence. Like that muggleborns would grow up, knowing the wizarding world and their ways, as well. At least, they'd truly fit in within one of their two worlds then.

Hermione had said on the Hogwarts Express that she no longer felt connected to the muggle world and their way of life, which, Harry thought, left her in the uncomfortable position of being left hanging somewhere in the middle.

He wouldn't want to kidnap muggleborns from loving families, of course. Mistreated children however should be given the choice to leave their muggle way of life behind. Those that enjoyed their muggle lives should still get some pre Hogwarts tutoring on the wizarding way of life.

Somehow , Harry did not think that Dumbledore had expected him to come to these conclusions. The headmaster pointed out Tom Riddle's habit of collecting trophies, in a way that indicated that there would be a future relevance. Then Dumbledore startled him out of his thoughts

"Do you feel sorry for Tom Riddle?" in such a way that gave away how unlikely he considered that.

Harry though answered whole heartedly "Of course, I do, sir."

"Oh Harry" the headmaster smiled patronizingly at him "I knew you had a big heart, for you even find it in your heart to feel pity for your enemies."

"It's not that, sir" Harry said "He had to grow up in the muggle world. I know what it's like. You're considered a freak, bullied by those physically stronger than you. He had probably never been shown any affection at all."

"Oh Harry," the headmaster smiled sadly.

Now that he had sent the headmaster undeliberately on a guilt trip seemed a good time to broach another topic.

"Some time this week I'm going to have an appointment with a lawyer. So, if you would give me permition to leave the school grounds for that purpose?"

"What do you need to see a lawer about, my boy?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well" said Harry "As you're surely aware as a member of the Wizengamot, you are not entitled to ask that question."

"My boy" Dumbledore said sadly "I merely look out for you, Harry. I intend to give you advise. You must know that I only have in mind what is best for you"

"Well" said Harry and thought that while the headmaster seemed to truly care about Harry, he had also more in mind than the best for him, but had the greater good in the forefront of his mind and that might just be in conflict with the best for Harry.

"I have not appointed you my advisor and I must say that, in regards to your habit of making rather poor decisions when it comes to my own life, I no longer trust your judgement. However, I might as well tell you, since very soon it will be out in the open anyway. I intend on sueing the Daily Prophet."

The headmaster once again looked at him with those sad eyes that made you feel so guilty.

"As you probably very well know by now, I cannot deny you the right to meet with your lawyer ."

"Thank you Headmaster" Harry inclined his head and promised to inform the headmaster of the time destination, when the arrangements had been made. In return Harry made the headmaster promise to continue their lessons the next Sunday at the same time.

It was almost curfew when Harry arrived at the common room and immediately went to bed. He deliberately slowed down his breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. He needed a well rested mind to sort through all the information. Harry imagined himself on a broom, the wind in his face, the liberating effect flying had always had on him and then fell into a calm slumber.

Once again he was rudely awakened by a person approaching his bed, intent on having his way with him. The horrified high pitched scream gave the identity of his would be lover away. Apparently, Colin had snuck into the sixth year dormitory. Harry sat up to examine the result of his dedicated study on wards and jinxes. Colin was bald now and large brightly red pimples on the back of his head spelled out

_I couldn't get a date_

_I longed for a fuck_

_I attempted rape_

_I really suck_

This was even better than he had hoped. He wondered whether Colin had actually touched the bed. In that case, the whole of Hogwarts would very soon know some disturbing facts about the boy.

Harry almost felt a little sorry for Colin, though he did not consider it too harsh a punishment, even though he had made quite an example out of the guy. Colin had brought it all on to himself by approaching him in the first place and after Harry had turned him down at that. Satisfied with himself Harry snuggled back into the warmth of his covers.

Half an hour later Harry got up cheerfully and prepared for the day. Ron was grumbling moodily in search for his socks, Seamus checked out Harry while Harry dressed. He decided to wait for Neville to get dressed. When they left the common room together Neville said,

"You know, it might have been just a weird dream, but I seem to remember Colin running from our dorm, bald and screaming in a girly manner."

"You'll see," Harry snickered.

Half way through breakfast Colin entered the Great Hall. The guy had no clue how to evade attention, as with everybody already seated all heads turned to him. Harry had carefully made sure that his crude worded little poem could not be covered up and Colin obviously did not know how to cast concealment charms. Everybody gaped at Colin, which was an additional benefit, Harry thought, as this gave him a small break and diverted attention from himself. The Slytherins cackled gleefully, the Ravenclaws were immediately guessing at what spells had been used to cause the results and tried to make out the story behind the weird occurrence. Only some Gryffindors who had witnessed Colin's attempt at asking Harry out, looked uneasily at him now. Dennis Creevey ran up to his brother

"What's wrong with you? What happened?"

"I have approached him the wrong way. I thought, he would reconsider dating me, if I proved my worth in bed to him. But I'm probably a lousy lover anyway. I mean...," Colin rambled on and revealed all kind of embarrassing things about himself, like that he thought that his feet were far too big or his obsession with cucumbers. Before Colin got the chance to elaborate on what exactly he did with cucumbers, Dennis cast a silencing charm on him.

Even Hermione could not help but let a few suppressed snickers escape. In a whisper Harry told her, Ginny and Neville how Colin had got into this predicament.

It was probably the accusations of attempted rape and the fact that Colin had not denied his attempt to sneak into Harry's bed, but was due to the self- humiliating spell in fact almost constantly lamenting about it, that made the teachers turn a blind eye on the matter.

Harry was not concerned that somebody might counter the spell. While every spell apart from the Unforgivables naturally came with a counter, this one could only be countered by sincere remorse and an apology on Colin's part, though Harry did not feel like pointing that out to him. How sincere could an apology be, when it was considered a means to counter the jinxes, after all.

That day after dinner Harry had planned once again to meet with Hermione and Ginny in the Room of Requirement, but once, again the Room just would not open. As they left and started to look for an empty class room, the met Neville along the way. On a whimp Harry invited him along. Neville happily joined them. In the end they stayed in an unused class room at the end of the charms corridor. After looking the door with a spell, an imperturbing charm and erecting silencing spells as well as additional privacy wards Harry quickly filled Neville in on what they had been doing, while Hermione asked

"Don't you think you went a little overboard with the warding?"

"Better to be save than sorry." Harry shrugged. "I'd like to take similar precautions whenever we want to discuss something in private. Whenever there are no wards in place I want us to assume that we are in a public place and are most likely overheard. We have to practice caution as well as warding. So we might as well do that when it is no life or death situation."

"Of course" said Hermione.

"I have contacted the lawyer, Gordon Greengrass." Neville told Harry.

"Isn't there a Greengrass in our year in Slytherin?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes, that's his niece." Neville said and Ginny added

"You wouldn't find a well respected Auror with no Hogwarts relations."

Harry nodded "That's alright. Just curious really. I certainly trust your judgement Neville."

Neville smiled his kind smile and said "He should contact you very soon."

"Well that's that then." Harry said. "Thanks again for helping me out."

"Actually I have finished the book and disregarding the degrading ways they talk about muggles and all that racist talk about blood purity it is an interesting read."Hermione said.

After hearing that Ginny asked "Would you borrow me the book as well?" Harry readily agreed.

"I think, I can understand purebloods a little better now." Hermione admitted. "I've really always been rubbing there faces in the fact that I am an outsider to this world, haven't I."

There was no use denying the obvious.

"By the way, do you think that magic is genetic? I mean, it is inherited among magical people." Harry elaborated.

Hermione looked thoughtful "I can only guess, but it seems likely, don't you think?"

Ginny and Neville looked out of the loop, as genetic was a muggle concept and they had never heard about the muggle approach on how children inherited the looks of their parents. Magicians hardly ever asked why thinks were the way they were, but simply accepted how they were and then generally bend those rules of nature by magic, as opposed to the muggles scientists.

Hermione went about explaining genetics to the too Purebloods, when Harry just took out one of the children's books on genetics he had bought. They seemed as awed by the whole think as muggleborn children at the first sight of magic being performed around them.

"That's a little off topic, but do you think that what polyjuice potion does, transforming the DNA?" Ginny wondered.

Hermione looked intrigued. "I don't think so, because that would mean you'd also get the same abilities as the Person you turned into. That is unheard of. I guess, polyjuice just masks a part of your DNS and over that it imitates the other genes structure. It's a fascinating thought. With some modifications it should be possible to really temporarily change the DNA, imagine what that could mean!"

"Anyway" Harry interrupted "I have wondered, if maybe there are so many squibs nowadays because with all the inbreeding too many people carry the same genetic defects and the body is too weak for magic to manifest itself" He then went on and told them what he had observed in Dumbledore's pensieve.

"You might just have a point," said Hermione "But that would mean that the pureblood policy has the opposite effect of what the pureblood fanatics desire. Oh the irony."

"But it goes even further. Just think where this leaves the muggleborns. Somehow, I think it highly unlikely that so many muggles children have the same mutation. Isn't it far more likely that muggleborns are descendants of squibs? So when the genetic defects have been repaired by the fresh blood the body of those descendants that still carry the magic gene or genes can sustain a magical core, again?" Harry added.

"That sounds frightfully logical," Hermione mumbled. "I'll look into this."

"Hm, maybe you could research your own ancestry to start with, I'll research my mother's and we'll see where this leads us?" Harry asked.

Neville promised to look for squibs in his bloodline as well, when he stopped at Gringotts next time, which was apparently where the Longbottom family tapestry was kept safe. Ginny remembered that she had a cousin on the her mother's side that was a squib. She promised to look into that as well.

"And to think that my father's family has always been frowned upon for not keeping their blood line pure." Ginny said.

"Well" Hermione said "Your parents are a good example of how it pays off to mix blood indeed. They have seven magically strong children, while most pureblood fanatics get only one child, hardly ever more than two."

Hermione changed the topic "The way the book described the witch hunts was really a shock though. I can definitely understand why they are against making muggles more aware of magic. I know, history would most likely repeat itself."

Harry cast a tempus charm "It's getting late. We should head back to the common room and get together again this weekend." The others agreed and Harry put down the wards.

How Harry would love to discuss all of this with Salazar Slytherin, too bad that he had yet to find a Portrait of the founder. He then decided to pay the chamber of secrets a visit soon. Somehow , he could not believe that the only thing left there was the basilisk. If he could get the chamber cleaned up, he might even turn it into his personal hiding place and a meeting place for him and his friends. Harry would visit Dobby soon, as well. Not only had he promised to do so, but he would also like to ask Dobby to help with the clean up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It seemed that Harry would get a lot of notes in his sixth year, as on Thursday, he received an invitation for a _friendly get together _on Saturday night

Harry cringed. A chance to suck up and make _useful connections _more like. He really did not want to attend that thing. Slug Club, the name said it all. Unfortunately, it fit well into his plans of winning people from other houses over, mainly Slytherins. If the slimy Slug hadn't been just boasting, he could also get to know other influential individuals of wizarding society, so it was only sensible to go.

Ever since his eye opening in the beginning of the summer Harry was learning much easier than ever before. It wasn't that he had suddenly had grown additional brains, but rather that he had never before been so dedicated, so focused on one thing at a time. Never before had he bothered to really aim at his best.

After six weeks into the school year, his brain cells had finally gotten used to remaining constantly busy and Harry admitted to himself that recently his head had become a far more interesting place to be.

Teaching Occlumency to him must have been a dull experience for Snape, he thought. He would have been angered at seeing so much wasted potential as well. How easily he had let himself be provoked, which was just another form of manipulation.

Snape always got a rise out of him, but he really did have to get his temper under control, which was basically what Snape had told him. Telling him in those sneering tones obviously had had no effect at the time, but surely had been far more gratifying to Snape. Snape obviously had a problem with his own temper. What Snape had been telling him about controlling his temper seemed a bit like a pot calling the kettle black, but he had been right, nevertheless.

One might think that as a now dedicated scholar, Harry would spend far more time on his actual school work. In fact, it was quite the opposite. With his mind always solely focused on the matter at hand, Harry had decreased the time he spent on homework by half. His approach was far more systematic than before and he no longer stared into space, with stray thoughts bumbling awkwardly through his head. Instead, his mind now moved with a purposeful stride straight towards its goal, while from time to time making equally intended sharp turns. Harry seemed to breathe in newly gained information, always evaluating how he could use his knowledge to his own ends.

It was Friday afternoon. Harry's homework was long done and he skimmed through the bookshelves in the library. However, he felt caged in by the hushed whispers and all the bookishness a library necessarily possesses.

Hermione had been very enthusiastic about his new habit of spending time in the library. He would never enjoy studying as much as Hermione though, who valued knowledge for knowledge's sake alone, like a Ravenclaw. Harry's own approach was more Slytherin in nature, as he saw knowledge as a tool to achieve his ends. It was with that in mind that he told Hermione that he'd give himself a break and would meet her for dinner in the great hall.

As always, the house elves were ecstatic to have a human to spoil in the kitchens. Harry accepted a cup of tea and asked for some sandwiches to take away.

He asked Dobby after a while, "Could I talk to you in private?"

"Harry Potter came to visit Dobby!" the excited elf squealed.

Then he snapped a silencing charm up and Harry added a privacy charm of his own.

"Dobby, would you like to visit the chamber of secrets with me?"

Seeing his frightened posture, he added, "The basilisk is long dead. There probably isn't anything more than a lot of rubble, anyway, but I want to clean this place out as a possible future meeting place."

Dobby looked at him with his expressive eyes and said, "Dobby is helping you clean."

"Great, thanks Dobby. Can you meet me in Myrtle's bathroom in five minutes?"

"I is being there, Dobby is!" Dobby nodded.

Five minutes later Harry had opened the chamber and stared down disgustedly at the slimy pipe. Dobby only snapped his fingers and the pipe was already much cleaner.

"That's clean enough for the time being, thanks Dobby," Harry said.

"Dobby is cleaning the pipe later on, Dobby is," the elf promised.

Shortly thereafter they arrived in the chamber. It was like Harry remembered, dirty and gloomy and huge. The last time though, Harry had completely missed out on the fact that the place was also utterly amazing. The arched ceiling gave the chamber a majesty that was not yet completely lost in the rubble. Dobby cleared away the rubble, while Harry looked around curiously, as the last time his mind had been occupied with more pressing matters, like rescuing Ginny, he had not been able to appreciate the finer points of the chamber's architecture. There were finely craved runes and pictures on the walls and probably on the ceiling as well. There were even still some faint traces of colour on the by now otherwise plain stone walls.

"This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed.

"Do you think you can make it livable, again? I am no good with householding charms, I'm afraid," Harry asked and Dobby bit his lip.

"Give me direct orders of what you want me to do."

"But I don't want to order you! I'm asking this as a favour from a friend. You don't have to do anything."

Dobby looked up "I'm happy to help. Everything for the great Harry Potter. Orders helps focus my magic. I can finally use so much magic again. Freedom means less intent for magic, less power. House elves has more magic than many wizards. We lacks intent." Dobby had tears in his eyes. "I likes to use lots of magic."

Harry was astonished.

"It's alright," he said. "I order you to restore everything to its former glory to the best of your ability, but first I want you to put a permanent heating charm on the place, so it's more comfortable."

Dobby grinned widely and with a whoop of joy, he began to remove the remaining dust and recoloured the walls, until the whole forechamber was covered in a light, almost grey-silver with green cravings.

Somehow, at twelve after the visit to the chamber the idea of Slytherin as a tasteless brute had been stuck with him. Now he could see that it had been the time that had destroyed this historical monument deep under the grounds of Hogwarts. The decorations were tasteful and not overdone.

Harry hissed the next door open and entered they the main chamber. After Dobby had renewed the painting on the walls there as well, Harry stepped to another snake carving on the far end of the chamber which he had not noticed before. He could try at least.

"Open," Harry hissed.

The walls trembled and finally an arched door way revealed itself to Harry. Cautiously, he stepped through, and found himself in a cozy looking moderately sized study with a dark green couch and a couple of sturdy yet elegant armchairs in one corner.

"Wow," Harry breathed, taking it all in, while staying rooted to the spot.

Like everything in the Chamber of Secrets the study was covered in a heavy layer of dust. Otherwise this room seemed to be undamaged, save for the faded colours of the wall painting. Dobby once again did his magic on the room, which now took a little longer, as there were more details to consider.

While Dobby removed dust, polished the dark marble surfaces and floor, Harry investigated the study. He looked at the bookshelves full of leather bound tomes that would make Hermione drool, but he did not dare touch them yet. Finally, he settled on the couch.

He almost felt bad for letting Dobby do all the work, but he was useless when it came to magical means of cleaning and Dobby would be extremely insulted if he attempted to help. He did consider Dobby a friend. The most important thing about friendship though was to accept your friends the way they were and to respect them that way. Attempting to help would be about his own guilt, not about Dobby's feelings, who seemed to enjoy himself. It was not degrading to Dobby to let him do all the hard work, but respecting his nature.

Dobby had explained that he only got that powerful magic at his disposal when he was ordered to do something, and really, how often did Hogwarts house elves get an equally challenging task? Harry knew that intent and focus were very important with magic. Now that Harry was more intent on his tasks he could perform magic more easily as well.

What Harry was witnessing now showed how magically powerful house elves really were. Harry knew that the task would have left him magically exhausted by now, even if he had been equally skilled with householding charms. Dobby though seemed almost refreshed and stronger than before. His eyes were glowing with magic.

"Dobby, you're a genius. Thank you," Harry said earnestly.

"I is thanking you Harry Potter," said Dobby shyly, but he looked truly happy.

Harry pondered hard how he could do something really nice for Dobby. Then he thought that Dobby would probably really like to use his power level merely for his own benefit for a change.

"Err, if you ever have an idea, something you'd really like to do where you need more magic at your disposal, come to me. I'll then order you to do it," he then said.

"Oh!" exclaimed Dobby "Harry Potter really is the greatest wizard ever. Dobby really likes decorating and making clothes. I is not allowed to redecorate Hogwarts."

Harry got an idea. "Would you like to work on my house over the summer? It needs lots of work."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically, "Dobby would like that."

"Great. I'm not sure, yet, whether I will return to Grimmauld Place, but if you like, you can redecorate it for me, make it a home. Just don't use too many different strong colours. I think, Remus lives there at the moment. So you might ask his advice as well."

"Dobby will do that." His ears dropped and he added "But Dobby has to wait for the next day off work."

Harry didn't really care any longer how Grimmauld Place looked, but Remus still lived there and he thought Dobby would enjoy the work.

He smiled at Dobby. "Well, like that you'll have something to look forward to."

Dobby nodded. "Dobby must go to the kitchens Harry Potter. I is preparing dinner."

"See you soon, Dobby." Harry said.

Once more Harry turned his attention to the study. Wandering aimlessly around, he then came to a grinding halt in front of a portrait.

"Salazar Slytherin?" Harry breathed. He couldn't believe his luck.

The portrait however remained frozen. He took a step back to get a better look. The portrait showed a middle aged man with brown, almost black eyes and long silky black hair, clad in exquisite dark robes. This picture was the screaming cliche of everything pureblood, the posture, the expressionless - if not unfriendly mask. After another look, he saw the vivid green snake draped around the man's shoulders that seemed to be staring at Harry.

Maybe the portrait, like everything else in the chamber only responded to Parseltongue? It was worth a try.

Even though there was only a portrait in front of him, he put his own only recently acquired mask firmly in place. He could not know for sure whether Voldemort had discovered the study before him.

"Good evening, Sir," Harry hissed and abruptly the portrait came to life.

The snake returned the hissed greeting and the man looked Harry straight in the eyes, otherwise giving nothing away.

"Good evening," the man returned the greeting.

"My name is Harry Potter Sir, Salazar Slytherin, I presume?" Harry asked.

"Of course," the man said with the hint of a sneer at what he clearly considered a redundant question.

"Well, taking family similarities into consideration, I had to make sure you hung a portrait of yourself into your own study."

"Indeed," said Slytherin neutrally. "What year are we in now?" he finally drawled.

Apparently sneering, drawling and smirking were required mannerisms for Slytherins.

"1996, Sir. So, when was the last time you had been activated?" Harry asked and in anticipation of the answer he could not help but hold his breath.

Slytherin however, ignored his question, instead taking inventory of the room.

"The room seems remarkably untouched for being left unattended for such a long time."

Of course Slytherin would be the master of evading questions. So they would slither around each other for some time, evaluating the other, while being careful not to let any information slip. On one hand, Harry's more Slytherin side appreciated the verbal dancing game, on the other hand his blunt Gryffindor side was getting rather impatient.

Before their fallout, Gryffindor and Syltherin had been best friends, according to the legends of the Founders. Gryffindor must have been constantly flustered by the evasiveness of Slytherin, who in turn had probably been greatly amused by his friend's impatience. Harry himself was a mix of both Slytherin and Syltherin and he already had to restrain himself. Most likely the two of them had been constantly bickering.

"I had the entire chamber cleaned and renewed. Only then did I discovered your portrait," Harry finally answered.

"You are a student of my house then?" Salazar asked and Harry smirked. After all, he had gotten quite good at that.

"I would have been, but I had been misinformed about the nature of your house."

There. That sounded intriguing, while not giving away anything at all. Two could play that game. Harry decided to take his leave now. Let Slytherin ponder on that mystery until he got back to him. After being left in suspense with nothing else to occupy himself with now that the portrait was activated, the man might just be more forth coming with answers.

"I have to get back now. It's almost dinner time."

As he had anticipated, there was now an angry glint in Slytherin's eyes.

"I'll get back to you soon."

With that said Harry turned around and left the study.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Upon arriving in the bathroom shortly before dinner, Harry cast a quick _scourgify _on himself and immediately headed towards the Great Hall. He was right on time and arrived in a throng of other students. Without drawing more attention than usual to himself, he slipped into his usual spot across from Hermione and next to Ginny, with Neville on his other side.

"So, how was your day?" Hermione asked, and Harry said cheerfully,

"Great," giving her a warning look not to inquire further until they were ensured of their privacy.

On the other end of the table sat Ron, weaving a grand tale for Lavender and Parvati that afforded him to dramatically gesture with his hands. Ron really was attention starved. Harry intended to give his former best friend his heart's desire. Maybe, drowning in unwanted attention would cure Ron of his aspirations for fame and glory.

Harry calmly surveyed the other tables. It was disturbing to see Ernie MacMillan looking so utterly devoted at him. Terry Boot nodded once in a friendly but harmless manner when their eyes met. That bloke had always seemed all right, though Harry really hardly knew him. At the Hufflepuff table Susan Bones smiled to him as well. During the DA Harry had found that she was really nice. Harry smiled back. Maybe he should approach people from other houses as well, in his attempt to expand his circle of friends.

The Slytherins were mainly talking among themselves. Zabini though, had his eyes fixed on Ginny, for whatever reason. He seemed almost dreamy and somehow the look on his face resembled a bit the one some guys gave Harry these days. That was interesting, but Ginny would certainly watch out for herself.

Next to Zabini sat a mousy-haired girl which Harry than recognized as Daphne Greengrass. The girl seemed rather closed off. Indeed Harry could not remember having ever heard her speaking out of class. She had certainly never been involved in any confrontation with him.

Then his gaze fell on Malfoy, who met his eyes and with an almost undetectable smile inclined his head. Harry returned the gesture and decided to continue his talk with Malfoy soon. His former rival and not quite friend seemed drawn, exhausted really. Harry wondered what had crawled up his arse. Then again, he could imagine a lot of things that might be upsetting Malfoy. His father was in Azkaban for being a Death Eater.

He was probably being pressured by now to join his father's master, and while Malfoy might basically share the ideals of Snakeface, he surely did not have the guts it took to be a Death Eater. Harry doubted that Draco felt up to performing the bloody business of a Death Eater himself, even if only because he was so used to his own comfort. Then again, he also doubted that Malfoy had it in him to mercilessly torture and kill.

He really had to talk to Malfoy. Showing him another perspective as well as offering him an alternative might have surprising results. Would Draco Malfoy turn against his family, even if Harry could make him see reason and he no longer supported his family's ideals? Family certainly seemed important to Draco. Harry could understand that sentiment.

However, Malfoy might prove to be a useful ally with his family's high up pureblood status. Even if only by association, Malfoy was well connected within the British wizarding community. He also was quite clever and cunning and had an intriguing personality. As his rival he had been infuriating, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. All in all, it would be far better to have Malfoy on his side than on Voldemort's leash.

After dinner, Harry went with the flow of students and decided that the time had come for the next step of his revenge on Ron. Carefully, he cast a temporary _notice-me-not_ charm and a permanent attention diversion charm on himself and then slipped up behind Ron to nonverbally cast the long incantation of the self-reflecting confounding charm on his former friend. It would divert the attention Harry would now miss out on to Ron. So very soon, Ron would have to fend of Harry's admirers.

Ron was not even gay, but being gay did not mean that Harry enjoyed being molested by a bunch of persistent blokes any more than Ron would. It was really only fair that Ron would suffer the advances in Harry's place, as he had been the cause for this mess. Harry only wanted to be left alone.

When the deed was done, Harry let himself fall behind the group and found himself next to Malfoy, which suited him just fine.

"Malfoy," Harry addressed him directly, so Malfoy would notice him despite the charm. "I'd like to continue our conversation tonight. Follow me, if you are up to it."

Malfoy gave him a tiny nod and said to the other Slytherins. "You go ahead. I'll see you later in the common room."

Harry turned in the direction of the Charms Corridor and Malfoy followed him into an unused classroom. Harry swiftly warded the room and lifted the _Notice-Me-Not_ charm.

"Thorough, aren't we" Malfoy raised his eyebrows, which was just another Slytherin mannerism.

"Better to be safe than sorry." Harry said and flopped himself on a table.

Malfoy leaned against table across from him.

Up close, Malfoy looked even more exhausted than from afar. His skin had a grey tinge to it and his eyes were bloodshot. Harry decided not to comment on that just yet. They silently stared at each other for a while. Malfoy's gaze had lost some of its former edge. He almost seemed nervous. Then his mouth twitched into an amused smile.

"So what did you make of Salazar Slytherin?" Draco drawled.

"He has a point of course," Harry began and Draco smirked and leaned in closer.

"Though I don't agree with his conclusions," Harry continued and Draco interrupted.

"So with what do you agree and with what do you disagree?"

"I agree that exposure to muggles would cause the next witch hunt."

Draco drew in a sharp breath.

"Not because muggles are evil, but because they would be afraid of us," Harry said.

"Well they should be," said Draco "After all, we are superior to them."

"And that is were I don't agree with you," Harry answered calmly. "While they do not have magic, they have always been superior in numbers and now for the last 80 years their population has increased fivefold in numbers. Even if I approved of killing or enslaving over ninety-eight percent of the entire human race, it would simply not be possible. In addition to that the muggles have developed extremely powerful weapons in the first half of this century."

Malfoy scoffed "They don't have magic. How powerful could their weapons possibly be?"

Harry took a deep breath. "What do you know about modern muggle history and science?"

Malfoy snorted. "They are muggles. Their primitive ways do not concern me."

Harry knew that most purebloods knew next to nothing about muggles, of course. He only had to sell the idea of learning about muggles the right way to Malfoy.

He sighed "I would have thought it a Slytherin principle to know as much as possible about your enemy."

Malfoy scowled but then nodded slowly.

Harry went on "In fact, muggles are far from primitive. While we bend the laws of nature by magic, muggles study them and use them to their advantage. Now they have weapons so powerful they can destroy entire cities, condemning the inhabitants to a horrible death. They don't even need a lot of people to fire their weapons.

"Basically they only need to push one button to turn an entire area into wasteland for decades. The power at their disposal would be far too great to shield by magic. That is why we cannot risk exposure. Any attack is an added risk. Their means of communication are much more developed than ours. They only have to write a message, push a button and just like that one muggle could alert millions of other muggles to our existence."

"Well," said Malfoy "But then muggleborns are even more dangerous to our world than I previously thought."

Harry looked at him "Have you ever wondered how magical children are treated in the muggle world?"

Draco frowned "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Most of them are considered freaks because strange things happen around them. They are bullied and then they arrive at Hogwarts, where everybody is as magical as they are. Unfortunately they are not really welcomed here, either."

Malfoy stared into space for some time, looking like the axis of the world had suddenly been turned upside down.

"But they still pollute the bloodlines," Malfoy argued.

Harry swept his fingers through his hair. How was he supposed to explain genetics to Malfoy? The prat would outright refuse to even consider the possibility that a concept as muggle as genetics could apply to magic.

Harry look at him "Do you believe that magic is inherited?"

"Of course, it is!" Malfoy said indignantly.

Harry went on, "Do you remember how I told you that muggles study the laws of nature?"

Malfoy spat, "What's that got to do with it?"

Harry knew he had already brought across a lot of points that had started to shake the formerly stable fortress of Malfoy's beliefs. Now he only had to keep his calm, however difficult this proved to be. Yelling and screaming would only weaken his position, as it indicated insecurity. The one having the upper hand in an argument did not need to raise his voice or even resort to yelling.

"Muggles have studied how certain traits are inherited among relatives. They call it genetics. Our blood contains strings with information on our ancestors' appearance and abilities and disabilities. Surely, you're aware that a child of close relatives often turns out weaker than his parents. Sometimes they are even insane."

Malfoy nodded slowly and Harry continued.

"That is because over time, part of the information can be damaged. Usually new blood overwrites the defective information. However, relatives are of the same blood and carry a lot of the same inherited information on their strings and like that they also carry the same genetic defects. Then the defects can no longer be overwritten.

He drew a breath, "Purebloods really are like one huge family by now. The intermarriages among purebloods cause every generation to become weaker than the previous one. So, many squibs are born nowadays." Harry paused again.

"There are a lot of magically powerful halfbloods and muggleborns though. No child of a muggleborn or halfblood has ever been a squib."

Malfoy stared dumbly ahead, clearly at a loss for words, as he could not reasonably deny the logic of Harry's arguments.

"Malfoy, where do you think muggleborns get their magic from?" Harry asked, determined to plant another doubt into Malfoy's mind.

Malfoy looked at him and snarled "How am I supposed to know? They're freaks of nature? Why don't you tell me, oh wise Harry Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyes to a glare. Maybe he was a little over sensitive when it came to the name "freak", but then, he had only been called that all too often himself by his relatives. As much as he'd like to throttle the prick, hexes and punches would not help to get his point across. So he forced himself to remain calm.

"That does sound a bit far fetched, although it comes quite close to what my muggle relatives believe about magicians in general. I'd rather stick to our preceived assumption that magic is indeed inherited, though. In that case, muggleborns might in fact be descendants of squibs."

"Why are you telling me all this crap?" Malfoy sneered weakly.

"I thought, I'd offer you a new perspective."

Harry was quite taken aback at Malfoy's reaction.

"And then what?" Malfoy shouted.

Apparently, Harry had really gotten under his skin.

"I hoped, I could prevent you from making a horrible mistake, when the time comes for you to make a decision. I know, you may find yourself in that position sooner than many others." Harry explained.

"You know nothing!" Malfoy yelled.

Harry nodded "I don't know lots of things, but I know I'd rather have you on my side."

"Why?!" Malfoy screamed.

He looked panicked by now and somehow it did not sound like he merely wanted to know why Harry wanted him on his side, though that was the question Harry answered anyway.

"You are clever, cunning, powerful and well connected. Besides, when you do not behave like a git you are pleasant to have around, Merlin, even when you are prat. Having you as a rival had it's merits, too."

"I'll think about it," Malfoy whispered and fled from the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks again to my hard working beta, who made it possible for me to update so quickly, again. Thank you, Tsurai no Shi!**

**At the moment I am already working on chapter 10, so the next chapters will probably follow in quick succession. **

**Unfortunately, the editing and revising of chapters 2 - 4 will probably take a while with the speed I'm littering my poor beta's mailbox with new chapters.  
**

**Please review! Any critiques you might have, would be very helpful!  
**

**  
Chapter 7**

Upon returning to the common room Neville, Ginny and Hermione pushed Harry into an armchair out of the way and swiftly but remarkably subtly, all three of them put up warding spells. Apparently they had done some research, as well.

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw Seamus taking a seat next to Ron. This might have been a friendly chat between dorm mates, but Harry somehow thought it more likely to be an effect of his nifty self-confounding charm.

"So what was that in the Great Hall, that nobody was supposed to overhear?" Ginny asked, grinning widely. "Have you had some good time in a broom closet somewhere?" Harry growled lowly. She just could not leave it alone. He knew she was only teasing him, but somehow the remark reminded him too closely of his creepy experiences with Colin and Seamus.

"Actually, I've spent time with Dobby," Harry said.

"Oh, that's great!" Hermione exclaimed "How is he?"

"Bored stiff mostly," Harry replied "Work at Hogwarts doesn't offer a lot of challenge."

"It's bad enough that there are bound house elves at Hogwarts at all. At least they're not overworked." Hermione started.

"Hermione," Neville interrupted her, "I would agree with you that lots of work is a bad thing, if we were talking about people. The same does not go for house elves though."

"Neville Longbottom!" Hermione screeched "How can you talk about house elves in such a degrading manner, as if you were better than them!"

Harry was getting extremely annoyed by the self righteous way she had once again gone off on a rampage without getting all the facts first.

"Hermione," Harry interrupted her sharply, "Yesterday, Dobby told me a lot about house elf magic. So, if you'd listened first, you would know by now that they need their work. It keeps them healthy and happy."

"I can't believe you," Hermione yelled, "I mean, obviously that's caused by the effects of the bonds. It's perfect slavery. Just force your slaves to be happy, so they don't even want to be free!" Hermione burst into tears.

"Have you ever actually asked a house elf how their magic works, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No..." Hermione said slowly, "I mean it's obvious, isn't it..."

"House elves are extremely powerful magical beings. More powerful than a lot of wizards, apparently."

"Then it's even more wrong to bind them!" Hermione snapped.

"They can't focus a lot of their magic without being ordered. They get ill if they are not regularly using powerful magic. It vitalizes them!" Harry snapped back, "You are incredibly unpopular in the kitchens right now because in your foolish attempt at freeing the house elves, you would have lost them the majority of their magic! Look at Winky now. She is barely hanging on to life. Dobby has an unusual amount of focus for a house elf. Dobby is an exception and not the rule, but even he cannot access all of his magic."

"I didn't know," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Of course, you didn't know," Harry snarled, "You assumed and then you judged without knowing, again!"

"I guess you have some apologies to hand out then, haven't you, Hermione?" Ginny said.

"Equality is not about treating them the same as humans, only equal to them," Neville stated.

"Sorry," Hermione sniffed, "I've really gone about this the wrong way, haven't I?"

"Most house elves are treated quite nicely by their families," Neville said, "though there certainly is room for improvement. A lot of families take them for granted. Abuse is not the rule though."

"We're not the only ones you need to apologize to," Harry said, still a little annoyed and he decided then to keep his visit to the Chamber of Secrets to himself for now. He did not like the idea of another huge argument so soon, again. Hermione was a great friend, but sometimes she was just so annoying.

"Infuriating know-it-all!" his inner Snape snarled in an uncanny likeness of the real man, who had recently become amusing to occasionally have around, as he had started to appreciate the dry sarcasm.

He then decided not to tell Hermione about his talk with Malfoy either. Who knew what she would do? Would she run after him, trying to talk to him? Harry shuddered. He did not need her interfering. It was already difficult enough as it was.

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt, which was caused by panicked spluttering.

"What is it with you?" Ron yelled, "Geroff me! That's disgusting!"

Their conversation was not the only one that had suddenly stopped, as by now the common room was absolutely silent and every head was turned in Ron's direction, who had in turn blushed crimson.

"I'm not even gay!" he screamed then, presumably to make sure everybody got that fact.

Harry and his group snickered.

"Getting your heart's desire can truly drive you into insanity, it would seem," Harry remarked.

"Don't think he's got that yet," Ginny muttered darkly, while Hermione huffed a sad sigh. The mutual attraction between she and Ron had always been obvious to all but themselves.

"He's such a prat," Hermione concluded.

Their exhilaration and good mood had been killed, as they were now all painfully aware of the loss of a good friend. Ron had not changed. He had always been impulsive, hotheaded and narrow- minded, but then he had been a friend, nonetheless. Now he had gone too far one time too often. His immaturity had annihilated their friendship. They were unable and unwilling to find a substitute.

With cloudy minds they turned in for the night. Once in bed Harry imagined himself on a broom once more. It would not help at all to clog his mind with anger, worry and sadness. He needed his rest, his strength for things to come. This night however, his make-believe broom tended to stay close to the ground. In the end, he managed to slip into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning Harry was watching Malfoy even more closely than ever, trying to figure out what was going on in Malfoy's head. He looked even more jumpy and drawn. Harry decided to leave him alone for the time being. He could not let himself seem too eager and he had to give the guy some space, so he could think everything through without additional pressure.

Harry thought further about the obstacles in the way to his self-set goal.

For now they were only four teens with a new and unseasoned outlook on a more than thousand year old conflict. There was no hope that anybody, never mind on whatever side they currently were on, would even listen to them.

Then there was the obviously unavoidable fight against Voldemort. While he hoped to shorten the supply of his supporters by persuading them to his own side, he also needed to prepare for battle. He could not hope to simply get lucky, again.

He needed to learn how to fight. He needed lots and lots of practice. He needed to work out a proper battle strategy, contrary to just rushing in heedlessly, as he had done previously. In short, he, barely sixteen years old, stranger to most wizarding things, needed to prepare for a magical battle. The task seemed huger than himself, hopeless. Nevertheless, that was what he had to do in order to survive, to finally live. Therefore, he had to do even more than just prepare for battle. He had to prepare, train and plan in a way that ensured his survival.

It was with all that in mind that Harry found himself once again in the library, cross reading a pile of books on healing and warding spells, shields and defense strategies. Crammed in between was a medium sized muggle style note book, which had the advantage of keeping his notes in order.

Shields were useful protection against a lot of hexes and jinxes, obviously, though they were little or no help at all against the worst of them. In a drawn out battle it was also inadvisable to use them too frequently, as they needed to be charged with a lot of power, which exhausted the caster magically. All in all, it was better never to be hit by any curse at all. That meant a lot of dodging, which in turn would sooner or later leave you physically exhausted. Too much dodging would inhibit ones own spell casting as well. So protective gear would still be helpful.

None of the Death Eaters at the Ministry appeared to have worn any protection against curses at all. Did they simply not have them or had they merely underestimated Harry and his friends because of their age?

For his protective gear he would talk to the twins, as their unconventional creativity promised to be a real asset. He would ask them to produce this exclusively for him and his group in secret. This might give him an additional edge over the Death Eaters, also having the effect of surprise on his side. He would invest once again in the twins' business, so money would not be any of their concerns.

The importance of physical fitness was mostly disregarded by purebloods, who preferred to do everything magically. Getting physical was generally frowned upon as something utterly muggle, as foolish as it was. In an evenly matched duel, however, endurance might just decide the outcome. Against a skilled duellist with a good aim, being quick on your feet might save your life, especially as this defense strategy was largely untapped for now.

His research on genetics had even implied that physical fitness influenced the amount of magical power a body could sustain. He had no means to prove this theory correct, but he would not leave any resources untapped, especially ones so easily expandable.

He could use the main chamber of the Chamber of Secrets for training as soon as he had let the others in on his excursion, although he was still reluctant to do so any time soon.

Ginny would not be fond of the idea of returning there after the traumatizing events in her first year.

Hermione was always quick to tattle on him. When in doubt, run to a teacher. Harry certainly did not part that sentiment, as all adults in his life had let him down at least once. And then it would really shatter his plans for the chamber and Slytherin.

Surprisingly, he had the least misgivings about telling Neville, who would probably be the most accepting of the news. Neville definitely was loyal like a Hufflepuff. While Hufflepuff's were loyal first and tended to ask about the cause later, Neville had a firm sense of right and wrong.

Neville could have been marked by Voldemort instead of him. Neville could have been the boy-who-bloody-lived. Somehow this gave him the right to be more involved than anybody else besides Harry if he chose so, and Harry felt that he most likely would.

Soon Harry would need to invest a decent amount of money into the twins' project. And he would need to pay a lawyer. It was only reasonable to assume that he would need to make larger investments in the very near future as well, so he needed to know how much money he actually had at his disposal.

He would owl Gringotts and ask for an account statement. Then, with definite figures at hand he would ponder how money might further help to speed along his goals.

This sounded almost like bribery. While the concept still disgusted Harry, it was no longer beneath him if it helped him or others to survive. However, this was not what he had in mind.

Surely, money would be much better invested in projects that actually helped people than by filling the pockets of some bigoted influential purebloods. There were a lot of people suffering from prejudices who had neither the lobby nor the financial resources to help themselves and improve their standing in wizarding society, like werewolves and muggleborns, for example.

Again, it was mainly fear that had caused the hate and consequent oppression of werewolf rights. Since Umbridge's anti-werewolf law had been passed, it was nearly impossible for them to find jobs in the wizarding world. In desperation, a lot of them would turn over to Voldemort. By funding a project for the integration of werewolves, he could give them another option and maybe gain their trust. After all, he had nothing against werewolves per se, as long as they were in no condition to harm anybody else.

Then he would also like to help out muggleborn children before starting at Hogwarts. Maybe he could found an organization that offered summer curses on wizarding customs to them. Later on he could try to expand the program to offer a permanent home for abused or orphaned magical children.

Those children certainly did not count as allies in this war, but the project fit very well with his overall plans. The emotional value weighed even more in this though. He only wished that something like this had been done much sooner. Somehow, it felt like he could right a small part of the injustice done to him as well that way. It was a comforting thought that maybe a lot of other magical children would be able to escape a fate similar to his own in the muggle world.

Harry strenuously wrote down his ideas into the notebook, so he could ponder them more in depth later on. The last two hours he had allowed his thoughts to jump from one matter to another one, hunting for ideas. While thinking, he had drawn silly little patterns next to the lines of his sloppy, almost illegible writing.

After dinner that night Ginny and Harry went to their first meeting of the Slug Club. Both of them had dressed themselves nicely in appropriate robes and their finest social masks.

Ginny was as apprehensive as Harry about attending that thing. Ginny was not one to sweet talk herself into a favorable position, or one to mince words. She also was far too impatient and direct in nature to dance through a conversation. Although Ginny was not as hotheaded as Ron, she still had a temper as fiery as her hair with a sometimes extremely vicious streak to it. She mainly considered an event with as artificially bloated importance such as Slughorn's get together a nuisance.

Slughorn's study was cluttered with a lot of knick-knacks, overstuffed plushy furniture and gave of the impression of an old woman's living room. The room strongly reminded him of the time the Dursley's had dropped him of at Mrs Figg's, although he had yet to see any cats.

"Ah, how nice of you to join us this evening, Mr.Potter," Slughorn greeted him enthusiastically from across the room. Harry forced the hint of a polite smile on his features.

"Good evening Professor," Harry and Ginny said together and shook hands with their host. Slughorn focused his attention immediately on Harry, again. Ginny gave Harry a slightly pained smile and went further into the room.

"Harry, my dear boy," Slughorn said, "We've all heard startling news about you, of course. So you might actually have been in my noble house?" Harry nodded. This man was a far too nosy. Ginny was making funny faces at him from a safe distance on the other side of the study.

"A lot of things would have turned out differently then, don't you think?" Slughorn said.

"Probably. Who knows?" Harry said lightly, "Now I am a Gryffindor with rather pronounced Slytherin tendencies. Otherwise, I would be a Slytherin with lots of Gryffindor traits."

"Of course, of course," Slughorn exclaimed, "One can never tell!"

After a while Harry was able to free himself of the slug's presence and went to the buffet, where some drinks and snacks were laid out. In a corner he caught sight of Ginny, who was talking calmly to Zabini. He strode over to them and greeted the guy courteously.

"Zabini," he inclined his head. Zabini gave him a measuring glance and then with a calculating glint in his eyes, he offered his hand.

Harry had never had anything against Zabini. The boy had always stayed in the background and out of any confrontations. There was no guarantee that he could trust the guy, but being a Slytherin did not make him any less trustworthy than anybody else. He would withhold judgment until he had gotten a more thorough impression.

He firmly shook his hand, while Zabini continued to watch him closely. Then he smiled, showing extremely white teeth.

Now he would be forced to make proper small talk with the guy. Harry internally groaned. He had acquired no miraculous conversational skills after their meeting on the train, and he could not avoid chatting with his new acquaintance or transform into his former speechless self now.

"Miss Weasly, Potter, would you care for another glass of wine?" Zabini asked then.

Harry looked at him with guarded eyes. It would be foolish of Zabini to slip something into their drinks in front of a dozen witnesses.

"Yes, thank you," Ginny smiled at him and Harry nodded as well.

"I'd like that."

As Zabini left to fetch the drinks, Harry turned to Ginny, after looking behind his back in an almost paranoid manner.

"How could you simply leave me with Slughorn? You could have rescued me, working your female charm on him, or something, anything!"

"Are you sure female charm has any effect on him?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow and Harry got a slightly peaky tinge to his complexion. Ginny snickered. She really took far too much delight in tormenting him.

"I have never thought about it really," Harry swallowed, "You could have pulled me along, whining about wanting a drink, or whatever."

Ginny's snickers grew more pronounced, "Where would have been the fun in that?"

"I take it you didn't enjoy the company of our esteemed Professor then?" Zabini drawled, coming to a halt in front of them with three glasses of wine floating in ahead of him.

"I wouldn't have any use for simpering pansies," Harry stated, summing up his impression of Slughorn in one sentence. Zabini quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I guess, you wouldn't...

"You've changed, Potter," Zabini remarked then.

"Time and war tend to do that," Harry said.

"You have become rather interesting," Zabini continued, obviously trying to figure him out. Harry did not reply to that, but merely gazed steadily into Zabini's eyes.

He had considered him a possible ally to approach. Now with Harry's new attitude it seemed to be Zabini who came to him instead. Cautiously, of course, but Harry would have been extremely suspicious if he wasn't.

"So what's changed?" Zabini asked, intrigued.

"A lot of things really. Basically, it comes down to: I have started to think for myself based on the knowledge I have gathered on my own."

"And this has somehow changed your mind about some things." Zabini stated.

"Yes," Harry said, "If you are interested in further solving the mystery I seem to have become, now is neither the time nor place."

"Alright," Zabinie nodded thoughtfully, and turned to continue his chat with Ginny.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Harry had decided to let Slytherin himself stew for at least two days. Somehow, those Slytherin mannerisms involved a lot of power games.

In this case Harry clearly had the upper hand, as the Founder was only a portrait stuck to a wall deep under the grounds of Hogwarts, while Harry could come and go as he pleased. Slytherin would realize that. Then the man would feel more inclined to show him respect, as he had proven that he could play those games well enough to be worthy of Slytherin house and then they might actually start a real conversation.

On Sunday after breakfast Harry finally caved in. He could no longer stand the suspense and slipped into Myrtle's bathroom. Obviously, Dobby had cleaned the pipe by now, as it was spotlessly polished. The dark floor in the larger rooms of the Chamber of Secrets was shiny and almost slippery.

If he could get Slytherin on his side, it would be so much easier to gain allies in Slytherin house. Slytherin however, would not be Slytherin if he didn't look out for his own gain, so Harry would have to convince him that it was in his best interest to support Harry.

Harry knew without a doubt that he could not have hoped to outplay Slytherin in flesh and blood, but with his portrait he might have a chance. What interests did a portrait have though? The only real interest Harry could be relatively sure of was the honour of his name and the prestige of his house. Harry could work with that.

He came to a halt in front of the entrance to the study. Taking a deep fortifying breath he hissed:

"Open," and slightly smoother this time, the entrance opened up to him. His mask firmly in place he went inside, looking once again over the rows of ancient books.

"So you are back again," came Slytherin's hissed observation with just a bare hint of impatience after while.

"Good morning, Sir." Harry inclined his head to the portrait, then turning his attention back to the bookshelves, again. "I assume there are preservation charms on the books?" This was not a pointless question by a long shot, while still being far from any of the topics either of them longed to breach. Therefore, it was a typical Slytherin move on the conversational chess board, a move that would earn him the Founder's respect.

"Obviously," Slytherin answered accompanied by the expected sneer. The next moment they engaged in a staring contest, one which Harry was determined to win. He would not give in to a portrait and he strongly doubted the portrait was able to perform Leglimency. Finally Slytherin broke the silence.

"So, we are related?" he hissed.

"Possibly," Harry hissed back. This would be another explanation for his Parseltongue ability after all, one far more logical than Voldemort transferring some of his powers to him when he had tried to kill him, as far as Harry was concerned.

It was unlikely that he had gotten that gift from his father's side of the family though. Pureblood families kept very close tabs on their lineage and there were no other known Parseltongues since Tom Riddle and apparently his mother's family, unless others had kept their abilities hidden, of course.

Apparently, the Gaunts had had the habit of intermarrying with their cousins for several generation by that time, so the gift might have not been spread very widely to other families.

Harry had seen the effects inbreeding had had on that line. With his recent theory about magic and genetics he had to wonder just how many actual squibs that line had produced along the way and thus subsequently removed from the family.

"How could you not know for sure?" Slytherin interrupted his thoughts. Harry thought how to get this story across just right.

He sighed, "The remaining line of your descendants did something rather ill advised," he paused, "They kept on marrying their cousins for several generations. Otherwise, a lot of your descendants are most likely unaware of their linage." That was definitely true. Wizards usually did not keep track on their squib relations, as they were considered a disgrace to the family.

"How did you manage to talk the Sorting Hat, which I assume is still in use, out of placing you into my house?"

"It takes a true Slytherin to accomplish that, doesn't it?" Harry smirked. That remark earned him a solid death glare.

"Why would you have tried to accomplish that, though?" Slytherin snarled. How predictable.

Harry pondered how to answer. He had remained in firm control of the conversation, and he intended to keep it that way. Slytherin only had the information Harry offered. He intended to use this to his advantage and give away the essentials in the right order. Verbal sparring with Slytherin had turned out useful to hone his cunning.

"Your house has lost a lot of prestige over the years. Members of your house are met with suspicion on principle by now," Harry said then.

"Why?" Slytherin asked.

"A former member of your house is wreaking havoc on the wizarding and muggle world alike. We are now at the beginning of the second war. The first war ended fifteen years ago. He'd greatly decimated the number of wizards in Britain by the end of it. He's killed both of my parents, for example."

"He is killing wizards?" Slytherin hissed incredulously.

"Yes," said Harry, "That is the cause of the recent mistrust against your house. It is not the worst of it, though. He will extinguish all of us when his actions finally expose our existence to the muggles." Slytherin remained silent and Harry continued.

"Muggles have developed a lot of more effective tools to kill us since your time."

"So you have not adopted that foolish, muggle-loving attitude of my three colleagues then?" Slytherin asked.

"I do not want them to know about us," Harry conceded, "but I have a healthy respect for their power in numbers and for their fighting techniques, which is something wizards in general are sadly lacking nowadays."

Slytherin looked thoughtful beneath his only slightly slipping mask. It was best to let him think he had gained the knowledge by outwitting Harry, and had then come to his own conclusions. Harry had to leave the image of the proud man the illusion of control. Ideally, Slytherin would believe that it was his own idea to help Harry.

"So what house are you actually in?" Slytherin demanded to know.

"You can't tell?" Harry asked, "Then it hardly matters where I sleep at night, does it?" Harry gave him a sly grin. He really had his Slytherin impressions down pat by now.

He had to play his cards just right now, plant the seeds. Slytherin looked almost fond of him by now and had a calculating glint in his eyes.

"You do belong in my house," he chuckled. "You could have redeemed the image the public seems to have of my house nowadays."

"I would not have the same trust and influence over the other houses, had I been sorted into your house," Harry sighed.

"People were always quick to condemn and judge." Slytherin conceded, "but eventually you could have made it work."

"Maybe," Harry answered, colouring his voice with a deliberate tinge of doubt, "Unfortunately, the dark wizard did all those atrocities in your name."

"And how does he support this claim?" Slytherin asked furiously. "I would have never consented to killing off wizards or exposing us to the muggles!"

"He is your last known descendant," Harry conceded, "though he is a halfblood orphan, who grew up in a muggle orphanage."

"My last descendant is a filthy halfblood and grew up in a muggle orphanage?" Slytherin snarled.

"Yes," said Harry, "although he is extremely powerful. His mother was a descendant of yours. She was a Pureblood, but despairingly poor and magically, extremely weak. It would seem that marrying cousins for generations had weakened their bloodline greatly."

"So she married a muggle?" Slytherin shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"She seduced a muggle aristocrat with the help of a love potion. When she stopped using the potion, the father of her unborn child ran off. The child was born in the muggle orphanage and the mother died in childbirth."

"A witch dying in childbirth? Unbelievable!"

"Her son grew up in the orphanage, knowing nothing about his heritage till some time after he entered Hogwarts."

"This is impossible! What is happening in our world?"

"Well, there are a lot of grievances about the way our world is currently run," Harry sighed.

"My descendant, a halfblood, tainting my name!" Slytherin was shocked and still reluctant to believe what he had been told.

"Would you rather he was a magically weak pureblood or a powerful halfblood?" Harry asked. He was actually curious of the man's answer to that dilemma.

"He is a disgrace to Slytherin simply for killing muggles, halfblood filth that he is, though he should not have been brought up by muggles."

"I agree," Harry said, "I have reason to believe he was abused at the orphanage. Anyway, it is safe to say that he would have turned out much differently if brought up in our world."

Slytherin was coming around. Finally they were one the same page, though he had not completely won him over – yet. Harry wanted to put off admitting his own halfblood status as long as possible. In the end, it would merely sound to Slytherin's suspicious ears as if he had attempted to brainwash him to accept him despite his own halfblood status all along, which was admittedly true. Slytherin, however, would then think that all of the facts he had been given had been lies.

He also dreaded selling the concept of genetics to a man, who had lived athousand years ago. The whole thing simply screamed muggle. He would need to impress the man with muggles' scientific accomplishments first. The man could not possibly find fault with respecting an adversary's skills.

"I certainly understand the sentiment of killing muggles, but exposing us to them..." Slytherin shook his head at that foolishness. "Why would he kill of wizards, though?"

"He is not one for discussions," Harry said, "He is actually extremely straight forward in his dealings with opposition." Straight forwardness definitely was a severe insult to any Slytherin, though he had certainly not lied about Voldemort's approach.

"Whoever does not agree with him is sooner or later killed. Ironically, he is also very fixated on blood purity, though with all the wizards he is killing, people will very soon either have to marry non- british purebloods or halfbloods and muggleborns, or even muggles." What he had pointed out now was one of the internal weaknesses of the strategy.

"Well, muggleborns cannot be trusted, halfbloods neither, as this lad has proven once again."

"Well, they are needed. Otherwise, people would have to lower themselves to incest, which only weakens the bloodlines. This has already become a serious problem. Every generation of purebloods becomes even weaker. Most muggleborns turn out stronger than purebloods nowadays. And at this time there are some sad results of incest at Hogwarts."

Harry's last remark was actually aimed at Crabbe and Goyle, who where dumb, ugly and magically weak, although he had no idea of their linage, of course.

"However, there a lot of muggleborns recently," Harry continued, "There is evidence that suggests most of them are actually descendants of squibs. The number of squibs seems to have increased dramatically over the last hundred and fifty years, probably caused by all the inbreeding."

Slytherin, of course, looked sceptical. This was to be expected. Only a spineless man would change his mind so completely in only a couple of hours. Harry could see though that the prejudice against his house rankled him.

So far everything had worked out according to plan. Harry decided to leave the matter rest for now, let Slytherin think everything through and not press any further. Genetics and muggle inventions were no favourable parting subject. They would have to wait.

"I have to leave now, though I have found our conversation intriguing," he said with forced formal stiffness, "I will be back soon."

"Indeed," Slytherin inclined his head, probably intent on preparing himself for their next sparring match, outlining traps, attempting to tear Harry's arguments to threads. The game was not won by a long shot.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Between his dealings with an inquisitive portrait and a meeting with a twinkling headmaster ahead of him Harry felt already drained when he got out of the chamber.

In the bathroom he had to brush off Myrtle. He really had no patience left for a wailing ghost at that time. So he marched off, intent on indulging in a bout of flying physically for the first time after Umbridge's blasted Quidditch ban.

Harry had not even consciously missed it before. He had been so occupied with planning and scheming that he had not even wondered about the start of Quidditch training and who might have gotten the captaincy. He would have to ask Professor Mc Gonagall about it. He stopped thinking of it immediately, when he mounted his broom though.

With an unmasked expression of pure bliss on his face he spent several hours in the air, diving low and shooting high up at high speed, thinking nothing at all, his attention soley fixed on the contented feeling of flying.

Mentally refreshed, Harry then took a shower before joining dinner in the Great Hall, a happy glow to his face.

In between bites Ron once again engaged Lavender and Parvati in a lively conversation, which included his usual expressive gestures, while Colin and Seamus were glued to either side of him, hanging on his every word, much to Ron's uneasy irritation.

Harry allowed himself a satisfied smirk, when he saw Ernie Mac Millan watching Ron closely, as well and let his gaze drift to the Slytherin table.

Once again he watched the thin frame of Draco Malfoy, the visble bags under his eyes, and wondered when the guy would break. Since their talk about pureblood ideals, Malfoy seemed to be under an even harder strain than before.

Malfoy had always taken great pride in his family. Possibly opposing his parents in the war, if he was even contemplating it, was surely a hard decision to make. Harry deeply felt for him.

He then noted that Zabini's face was once again turned to the Gryffindor table. Follwing his gaze he realized that he was locking gazes with Ginny, whose cheeks where faintly flushed. Zabini noticed Harry's gaze and nodded cordially at him. Harry returned the greeting and went back to his meal.

Right after dinner Harry stood once again in front of the Headmaster's office. While thoughts about Dumbledore inflamed an icy fury in Harry these days, he was curious as to what knowledge the old man would be willing to part with at this meeting. He hoped they would get to the point where Dumbledore would tell him why he considered their storytelling time so important, although he seriously doubted it.

Dumbledore, like Harry himself, definitely had a lot of Slytherin tendencies. His mask was not the common one of sneering indifference, but his benevolent grandfatherly expression and that infuriating twinkle in his eyes. This mask served his purposes much better, as it made a lot of people underestimate him. Whether they hated or admired him, they usually considered him barmy.

Harry would not make the same mistake. He could deal with Slytherins though. He had had the upper hand with talking to Slytherin himself after all, even if it had only been his portrait. It was still one mind against another, both of them following their own hidden agendas. Everybody had their own hidden agendas, even if some people were less conscious of them and therefore less fit to act on them.

If Harry played his cards right, he should have the upper hand in this battle of minds and wills as well, in the long run anyway. While Dumbledore seemed to have gained information that Harry might need and therefore wanted, Dumbledore needed Harry due to the prophecy. Dumbledore was well aware of Harry's importance. His many precautions to keep Harry dependent on him were proof of it.

In the end, Dumbledore needed Harry to kill Voldemort. So obviously he would give out the information he considered so important on Harry's terms, rather than having his winning chess piece walk out on him.

Harry suppressed his smirk, nodded to himself and put his mask of cool politeness in place.

"Acid Pops."

Harry entered the office. Dumbledore's pensieve was once again on his desk. The headmaster smiled serenely at him. Harry inclined his head with a tiny smile in return.

"Good evening, Sir."

"Harry," the Headmaster beamed at him.

A lot of things and people seemed to have changed these days, but the Headmaster was still the same. In a way, this was a comforting observation, one solid point in his otherwise shifting world. And while he acknowledged that the man had a mask of his own, this also gave him a known pattern of behaviour to work with.

Harry waited for the Headmaster to speak. While it was the polite thing to do, he also refused to beg for information like a child would beg for cookies.

"Well, Harry this time we will visit two memories," Dumbledore said, and poured a memory into the pensieve.

Harry watched the teenage Tom Riddle searching out his wizarding relatives and wished he would get that chance himself, but then, who needed a relative like Morfin Gaunt? It seemed like Tom Riddle felt the same. The look of disgust and disappointment on his face said it all.

Morfin had noticed Tom's resemblance to his muggle father as well and then he told him that his father had come back alone, that he had left his mother. Tom had probably experienced little kindness from muggles up to that point and so did not expect any from his father, which by leaving his mother, had also left him.

He must have realized at that point that he was utterly alone in the world and Harry could not help but feel for him. There should have been someone in the wizarding world at least, who looked out for him, spent time with him, showing that he cared. It might have made all the difference.

Then everything went black and Dumbledore pulled him out of the memory. Again, he felt that the headmaster had wanted him to focus on something completely different. So Harry waited patiently for the headmaster's comments.

"You are probably wondering why it went all dark." The Headmaster began and Harry nodded.

"That was because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onwards. When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone."

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, and popped one into his mouth when Harry politely declined.

Then Dumbledore told him how Tom Riddle had framed his uncle for the murder of his father and grandparents, punishing all available relatives that had abandoned him and had left him alone in the world at once.

What he'd learned did not shock Harry. After all, he knew that Tom Riddle would at one point become Voldemort. If anything the memories he had seen so far had helped him to see him as more than a monster. He had probably started out as an abused love-starved boy. It was only natural that at one point he had decided that love was undesirable, anyway.

Then Harry thought some more of what he had seen. Tom Riddle had not been caught with underage magic.

"But the ministry can detect underage magic. They could have gotten him like that."

"They can detect magic in an area, not the perpetrator," Dumbledore explained.

"So basically in a wizard's home underage magic would remain undetected?" Harry asked.

"They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offsprings' obedience within their walls."

Pureblood families would not stick to that law, which basically put all the other children at a disadvantage, but if Harry spent his summer in the company of an adult witch or wizard that was ready to ignore breaches of the restriction to underage magic, he could cramp in a few weeks of training.

Harry kept his thoughts to himself and together with Dumbledore he entered another memory, which the Headmaster declared to be Professor Slughorn's.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and then did a quick calculation. Slughorn must have been head of Slytherin at Tom Riddle's time at Hogwarts. Knowing the man and his tendencies to assemble the influential and powerful around him, Tom Riddle had surely been one of Slughorn's favourites and a member of the Slug Club. After all, Tom Riddle had been Head Boy.

Harry was proved right, when in the pensieve he witnessed a meeting of the Slug Club with the familiar face of Tom Riddle present. At that time the club seemed to be slightly different in nature.

While Slughorn rested in a comfortable monstrosity of an armchair, he had his students seated at much lower wooden chairs in a half circle around his desk.

Harry suppressed a disgusted snort. The head of Slytherin had clearly been intend on emphasizing the power structure with him on top. Keeping the members of his club beneath him was probably supposed to make the students look up to him more, both literally and figuratively.

Sooner or later this was bound to backfire badly, as it only drew the two sorts of people to the gathering. Only spineless suck-ups to those with more power than themselves, and those ruthlessly seeking power forthemselves would sink as low as to attend such a thing – people like Tom Riddle.

Again, he had been right in his assumption that Tom Riddle had been one of Slughorn's favourites, also seemingly having his head of house regularly bribed with small gifts, such as his favourite candy – pinapples – Harry filed away for eventual later use.

In fact, even the other members seemed to worship the very ground he walked on.

Then they were enveloped in white fog, only hearing Slughorns unnaturally booming voice. _"You'll go wrong boy, mark my words."_

That did not seem right, even without the fake feeling to the memory at this point. Knowing Slughorn, it was far more likely that he had praised Tom Riddle in his usual exagerated ways, maybe even promising his services for a great career. It seemed just like Slughorn to try altering a slightly less than glorious memory.

Harry was snapped out of his musings when he heard Slughorn address a student as Avery, a name he knew to be related to the Death Eaters.

Had the Slug Club supplied Voldemort with his first Death Eaters? The strict hierarchy, which seemed to have placed Tom Riddle directly under Slughorn, had surely made it much easier for Voldemort to gain followers when he had started his underground organization.

Harry assumed that Tom Riddle had even learned a lot from Slughorn about the art of keeping control over his minions. Letting them know their place was to always be beneath him, keeping them on a short leash and as thus ensuring they felt gratified merely by gaining his praise, his faith in them.

Tom Riddle stayed behind after the meeting and asked Slughorn about Horcruxes. By Slugorn's outraged refusal to discuss the subject Harry guessed that Horcruxes – whatever they were – had an unfavourable, possibly dark reputation, though something about that memory also seemed fake.

Slughorn's voice boomed through a thick fog, stopping Harry from seeing anything again.

Could one fake a memory? It did seem just like the thing Slughorn would do if it made him look better, but was it even possible?

Before he could ponder that line of thought further, he was yanked out off the memory and back into the office.

Again, Harry waited patiently for Dumbledore to speak.

"As you might have noticed, that memory has been tampered with."

Harry nodded slowly. That answered that question at least.

"So, what is a Horcrux?" Harry asked then.

"That my dear boy, we will discuss when we have seen the real memory. For the first time you will get homework. You see, it will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory," Dumbledore smiled and Harry internally seethed.

He had no intention of being sent on a wild goose chase without knowing what he was actually hunting for and whether it was worth the time and effort. He refused to further play a blindman's bluff with the Headmaster. In short, he was tired of the old man's games.

"I don't think so Headmaster," Harry said calmly. He knew after all that the Headmaster needed him. That also meant he could call the shots, as Dumbledore would not want to alienate him any further.

"Tell me now what you know about that topic; why you consider this memory important. And then I will do my best to retrieve the real memory for our next meeting," Harry added decisiveley.

"Harry, my boy, all I have up to this point are guesses and suspicions," Dumbledore twinkled.

"Well, would you then share your guesses and suspicions with me? Obviously, this is about Horcruxes, or you would not have hunted down this particular, albeit fake, memory. So you must know at least something about them. " Harry said.

"Very well, my dear boy," Dumbledore sighed sadly and steepled his fingers. "A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"How does one split ones soul?" Harry asked already slightly sickened by the prospect.

"A soul is the most sacred thing of any individual. It is meant to stay whole. It's an act of violation. Killing though, rips the soul apart. That is all I know," Dumbledore said tiredly, "As you can tell, it is the darkest of the Dark Arts."

Harry nodded, "Thank you, Headmaster," and wondered what happened to a person that no longer had a complete soul.

"Well, then shall we meet next Sunday, again, if you have retrieved the real memory by then?" asked Dumbeldore.

"Of course, Sir," Harry said politely.

"Well then, we will conclude our meeting for tonight," Dumbledore said.

"There is one thing I have actually been curious about for a while," Harry said slowly.

"Oh well. What is it, my boy? I will see if I can satisfy your curiosity," came the jovial reply.

"How was Tom Riddle received by his housemates when he entered Hogwarts in his first year? Did he actually pretend to be a pureblood, or was he bullied because he did not belong to the known pureblood family lines?"

Dumbledore thoughtfully caressed his beard.

"I have always had a close eye on him, ever since I first met him at the orphanage. At Hogwarts he drew little attention to himself at first. A month into the school year he landed himself in the hospital wing with several rather vicious hexes. He never gave away the names of his attackers though, so nothing could be done. In his second year I suspect him to have asserted his revenge, as most of his house mates tread very carefully around him at that point."

That explained a lot. Tom Riddle had finally entered this fantastic new world full of people like himself, only to have the abuse continued and apparently, still no adult to confide in, though he had probably learned early on to rely soley on himself. His trust would not have been easily gained.

Harry felt that he would not have turned into the caring person he was now, neither, had he experienced ongoing abuse at Hogwarts, as well.

It was also very likely that Tom Riddle had also already been quite set in his ways by the time he had entered Hogwarts. Shouldn't the teachers have given him some guidance though? An eleven years old child could not possibly be irredeemable, could he?

Dumbledore had merely watched, but never made an attempt to help the orphan child, although he must have known that Tom Riddle already had severe issues upon entering Hogwarts. Instead he seemed to have already condemned him. Labeling Tom Riddle evil, instead of a victim of abuse, had permitted Dumbledore to retain his belief of the general human goodness, Harry assumed.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said and bid him goodbye, once again keeping his thoughts to himself.

Deep in thought, Harry entered the common room where his circle of friends, which now included Neville, had waited up for him. Harry threw up the wards and silencing charms and in an afterthought a temporary _Notice-Me-Not _charm, as well. Then he filled them in on what he had learned from his meeting with Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore seemed to have sacrificed Tom Riddle early on in favor for his believes of the general goodness of humanity," Harry said after he had finished his tale.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, "I would generally agree with him, though he somehow fell into his own trap. Nobody is essentially evil – I think," she added.

"At the beginning people mostly attack out of fear," Neville said.

"But at some point victims turn into offenders," Hermione nodded, "That makes sense."

"Seeing the human sides of the later Voldemort, makes killing him in cold blood all the more difficult," Harry sighed, "We started out very much alike, but then experienced different things and chose different roads."

"I wonder how having an incomplete soul affects a person?" Ginny asked.

"I would guess that it limits the emotinal range a person is capable of feeling," Hermione mused aloud.

"He had already been a tortured soul. To him, emotions must have mostly meant pain," Harry theorized and Hermione continued in a rush.

"So being unable to feel that much emotional pain, to stop longing for compassion would have seemed like a positive side effect to immortality."

Ginny frowned, "Why would one want to live forever, when life is already so fucked up?"

"Em, destroy what has destroyed you?" Harry improvised, "Letting the world go to shambles along with you?"

Hermione tapped her chin. "Makes sense."

The story of the boy who had turned into Voldemort was sad, actually. Was there even any trace of that boy left by now?

They sat in a contemplative silence for a while.

"So what did you make of Zabini?" Ginny asked then.

"I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see," Harry shrugged.

"He is quite charming, isn't he?" Ginny remarked.

"That he is," Harry said, "though he will have to prove himself through his actions, of course." He felt that before long Zabini would have wrapped Ginny around his fingers with his courteous manners, gentlemanly ways and good looks.

"Just don't let your guard down before we've figured his motives out a little better," he advised carefully. Harry knew that insinuations of her not being able to look after herself would only make her act out of spite. Besides, he was sure she could adequately defend herself against Zabini; after all, she had already held her own against a bunch of Death Eaters. What was a school boy compared to that – that is, if she did not let herself be blinded by appearances.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

On Monday at breakfast Harry finally got an owl from Lawyer Gordon Greengrass.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_From our mutual acquaintance Neville Longbottom, I have received news that you require the services of a law wizard in your case against The Daily Prophet._

_I have acquainted myself with the details of your former dealings with The Daily Prophet by now and would like to arrange a meeting with you to discuss our course of actions. If you are so inclined, I would offer to rent a private room at the Three Broomsticks this Friday at five o'clock for our meeting. Please owl a reply, confirming time and place, or include alternative suggestions. _

_Looking forward to meet your acquaintance,_

_Sincerely, _

_Lawyer Gordon Greengrass _

Simple and to the point, without unnecessary flattery. Lawyer Greengrass appeared to be a man of Harry's heart. He offered the owl some of his bacon, told it to wait and quickly penned a reply.

_Dear Lawyer Greengrass,_

_Time and place suit me fine. I'm looking forward to making your acquaintance._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

He attached the message to the large eagle owl and watched it take of a moment later.

In the afternoon Harry once again hid in the dullest corner of the library, starting on his essay for Snape's class, which was due in three weeks. _The difference between light and dark spells. Elaborate. _

The topic turned out to be rather difficult, as he had yet to find an easy or even persistent distinction. Obviously, there were a lot of spells that were unquestionably dark. Lots of other spells, that were labelled dark however had a light equivalent that caused just about as much damage.

So was it a matter of power that needed to be put into the spell? Somehow that did not make sense. Harry had always considered the Dark Arts evil. Was this just another notion he had to overcome? Was the only thing distinguishing light spells from dark spells arbitrary ministry laws?

Harry did not dare reading the books on Dark Arts he had bought in Knockturn Alley in the library. While he could not quote them for school work, they might give him a hint in the right direction though. By now he had become extremely personally intrigued by the distinction, as well.

On the whole, Snape's classes had actually turned out to be very interesting, if one was prepared to listen with an unbiased ear, concentrating on what he said, instead of how he said it.

He really knew hardly anything about Snape, only that he had a Mastery in Potions, had a more or less obsessed interest in the Dark Arts and had greatly disliked his father and the other Marauders. Otherwise, Harry knew nothing about this controversial character that was spying for at least one side of this war.

Harry could perfectly describe any and every oneof his facial expressions; his sneers, snarls, his smirks, the silkiness of his voice when talking about Potions or the Dark Arts. He could masterfully describe the mask. In all those years of loathing his teacher, he had never actually learnt anything about him but what his mask looked like. Other than telling him that the man behind the mask was a cunning individual, its study had not given him a tool to figure him out.

Harry decided to add some research about Snape's background to his schedule. Who were his parents? Did he have siblings, any living relatives? Who did he associate with? Who had he hung out with at school?

Frustrated with his findings on the Dark Arts so far, Harry resolved to go over his unofficial, and probably even illegal, sources in Slytherin's study as soon as possible and snapped his books shut.

Malfoy had stood behind him for awhile, unnoticed till he leaned over Harry's shoulder. He looked over the titles of several of the books and gave Harry an amused smirk.

"Potter."

Harry guessed that Malfoy probably knew the answers to their homework much better than himself. After all, his family had been knee to neck deep in the Dark Arts for generations. He had probably already cast his fair share of dark spells himself as well. It was only to be expected. Probably, he had been trained in them since he could hold a wand. Harry refrained from asking Malfoy for help though, as this was bound to be a touchy subject.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded at him, "Feel free to have a seat."

Malfoy slid in a chair across from Harry, who moved his books to the side. They locked eyes for a few long moments, till Malfoy suddenly blurted out:

"What happened at the ministry?"

Harry contemplated how to answer him. While he felt Malfoy had the right to know how his father came to be imprisoned at least, he could not risk to reveal the contents of the prophecy to him, or even let him know he knew it. Telling him what Voldemort himself already knew however could not harm anyone.

"All through the school year Voldemort-" Draco flinched at the sound of the name and then scowled sullenly at Harry.

"How can you of all people say his name?"

"You should as well. At one point he only was an abused child, growing up in a muggle orphanage."

"A muggle orphanage?" Malfoy said incredulously, "Him?"

Harry nodded, "It makes sense, doesn't it? He is a halfblood. His mother was Merope Gaunt. She dosed his handsome muggle father with a love potion. She got pregnant. The muggle left her though when she stopped using the potion. She was ugly to the point of being almost disfigured, and magically weak. She died in childbirth and left him to grow up at the orphanage."

Malfoy stared dumbly at him.

Harry went on. "He had sent me visions of a corridor of what I later learnt to be the Department of Mysteries. Again, only later did I learn that this was where a prophecy of Voldemort and presumably me was kept."

Malfoy shuddered again."A prophecy about you and the Dark Lord?" Draco then exclaimed wide eyed. "What did it say?"

"It was destroyed." Harry said flatly, thinking back to the events of that night.

"So you have no idea what it says?"

Harry thought how to mislead him best. While he could not effort to actually give away that he knew it, he could still use the prophecy to his advantage now.

"Well, it's not that difficult to guess, isn't it?" Harry shrugged, "Something along the lines of him or me?" Personally, he didn't consider the prophecy that important, anyway. The main problem was that Voldemort believed in it. The prophecy itself had only caused its partial fulfilment after all. Had it not been overheard, Voldemort probably would have never marked him as his equal.

"All year, he attempted to lure me there to trick me into retrieving the prophecy for him, as only he and I could touch it. Then he made me believe that my godfather had been kidnapped and was tortured at the ministry."

"Who is your godfather?" Draco asked curiously.

"Sirius Black," Harry said.

Again Malfoy stared dumbly at him, "How could Sirius Black have been your godfather?"

"He was my father's best friend. He'd offered for me to permanently stay with him."

"Bellatrix Lestrange killed him though," Harry added with barely restrained despair and hate, "Her own cousin!"

Malfoy looked sick. "Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Harry nodded, restraining himself from further commenting on that, well aware that she actually was his mother's sister.

"Sincere condolences," Malfoy muttered formally. It was more than an empty phrase though, as Malfoy's shocked expression clearly showed, bringing the point across far better than the stereotyped reply.

"Thanks," Harry said equally sincerely.

They said in silence for a while, staring numbly at each other. Despite having lost family on different sides of the same battle, their losses had brought on a connection, however short lived it might be.

Harry smiled thinly. Malfoy had sunken into himself, looking so utterly exhausted and lost, much like Harry felt.

"How can you be so kind to me, how can you even stand being near me at all?" Malfoy whispered dejectedly.

"While you bear a great outward resemblance with your father, you are not him."

Malfoy drew in a breath, "Will you tell me? What did he do? Please, I need to know!" His lips quivered and his eyes watered.

Harry nodded slowly and following the sudden urge to comfort the guy, who had lost his father on the opposing side of the same battle that had lost him Sirius, he cautiously moved to the chair closest to Malfoy and put a hand on his shoulder. While Malfoy did not outwardly acknowledge the contact in any way, he did not move away either.

"He led the attack," Harry said dully, "He actually restrained Bellatrix Lestrange from torturing us before he had the prophecy. Basically, I used the record of the prophecy as a shield for all of us. We smashed shelves with other records and used the confusion of the moment to make a run for it. We didn't get far though and got seperated, spread around across many different rooms. We barely managed to stall them long enough for help to arrive."

Malfoy uttered a strangled sob. Whether it was because he had finally learnt how his father had ended up in prison or the fact that his father had attacked his school mates, Harry did not know, but it probably was a bit of both.

He had actually tried to say something remotely positive about Lucius Malfoy, while still sticking to the undeniably ugly facts. Molly- coddling Draco by deluding him into believing his father's actions had been somehow redeemable, or even that his father had been an innocent bystander or any such drivel was out of the question though. He would not lie to Draco. The sooner he accepted the cold truth, the better it was.

Again, Harry felt the strange urge to console him. Under the circumstances it seemed unlikely that Malfoy would accept comfort from him of all people though. Tentatively, he squeezed Malfoy's shoulder and moved in a little closer. To his great surprise he found himself with an armful of Malfoy moments later.

The long awaited break down seemed to have finally come. Malfoy's shoulders shook uncontrollably. He never uttered a sound as he sniffed into Harry's collar bone. He must have been extremely worn out for him to latch onto Harry like that.

Gone was the proud Pureblood and only the mere teenager beneath was left behind, lost without a sense of direction, the ideals he grew of his upbringing the only shaky crutches to help along the way, frightened and utterly alone.

Unsure of what to do now, as he had never gained much experience with consoling or even receiving that sort of comfort, Harry ligtly caressed his back. Malfoy's grip tigthtened, he seemed to hold on for dear life. Harry returned the hug and oddly enough it felt good to hug somebody he rationally knew he could not trust.

He had received so few hugs in his life. Harry hugged him closer, as he once again thought of Sirius, how his actions had contributed to Sirius death, how again he was all alone. His sight went blurry.

This was a sort of comfort that Hermione's consoling hugs could not provide, because Hermione did not understand, not really. With absolute certainty he knew though that Malfoy did, even if his sympathy might not hold on once he got a grip on himself. Malfoy understood. They clung to each other in the grip of pure desperation.

The breath on his neck, the shaking body slummed against his chest, the beat of a heart under his hand mixed the despair with a fierce joy of being alive, so very alive. His heart sped up, as they pressed even closer against each other.

"Potter," Malfoy murmured.

"Malfoy."

Malfoy looked up to him, puffy eyes burtsting with the same despair and sense of aliveness that Harry felt. They stared at each other. Harry quirked the corners of his lips in a sorry attempt of a smile. Then he felt Malfoy's lips on his. Once again he found himself in a lip lock and could not tell how this had come about.

Malfoy's watery kiss was so full of inhibited need, which Harry felt himself respond just as hungrily. The absurdity of kissing Malfoy of all people in the school library and after having discussed the events at the Department of Mysteries at that, made the whole thing seem even more intriguing. Making out now had the refreshing feel of "not the thing to do" to it, which was all the more reason to do just that.

Malfoy was nibbling his lower lip, then thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth. His lips were rough, bearing marks of worrying his teeth too often. By now he was ackwardly sprawled over Harry's legs, his hands around Harry's neck pressing them even closer into together.

It was a sloppy kiss with lots of teeth and tongue and. There was only need; only sucking and biting lips, fisting of hair, probbing tongues and eventually fumbling hands, seeking to drone out the numbness, the despair rolling along with the tears streaking their faces.

Harry's mouth wandered along Malfoy's jaw to his neck, where his bite left a mark. Malfoy straddled his legs, grabbed his hair and once again their lips locked. Malfoy's teeth drew blood on Harry's lips. Harry groaned and kneaded Malfoy's ass and pushed them closer together. Malfoy pushed Harry's robe aside to nibble on Harry's collar bone, breathing heavily against his neck and digging his nails into his shoulders.

Then Malfoy wrenched himself free. He looked panicked, scared to death actually. Harry put a hand on his shoulder, which Malfoy shook of.

"Just stay away from me!" Malfoy panted, retangling himself from Harry and the chair. Then he ran off.

Harry stared at the point where Malfoy had stood only moments before. What had that been all about? The situation had just become even weirder. He had just snogged Draco Malfoy, who had then run off. He shook his head. He had just shared the most intense and intimate moment ever up to that point with Malfoy. There had been nothing of the calm tenderness he had shared with Joe, only shared need.

Never before had he pondered whether he found Malfoy attractive. It hadn't been about looks or even liking the other though, only the shared urge to feel. Everything between them had always been intense, were they hexing and beating the shit out of each other, or snogging each other senseless as they had just now.

What was it with crying people kissing him anyway? Nothing of this kiss even remotely resembled Cho's though, luckily. Cho had smelled sweetly of soaps and perfume, while Malfoy had a nice distinctly male smell to him. Where Cho had been soft and undemanding, Malfoy could not get enough – until he had run off.

That Malfoy was good looking was a fact commonly acknowledged. His almost white blond hair, pale skin and aristocratic features could only be described as handsome, even if most also added cold to the discription. The bloke he had gotten to know these past weeks was anything but cold. Was it his mask slipping under the strain? Recently his face looked gaunt and he had become far too skinny. While the bags under his eyes made him seem more human, they did nothing for his complexion. Harry shook his head. They might have just been caught up in the moment. Harry certainly had no romantic feelings for Malfoy.

Why had Malfoy run off like that? Had he realized just then that he had snogged The Chosen One, Harry Potter, that he liked men and could not cope with that concept? Malfoy obviously had a lot of issues these days, breaking down in front of Harry like that. He hardly seemed to eat anymore, judging by the bony feel to him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you again to my beta. You're great Tsurai no shi! Thanks to all those who have reviewed on my story so far! **

**This chapter had been ready to be uploaded ages ago. Somehow there was an error with the server and I couldn't upload. Should the problem occur again, I might try to post the story on another site. In that case I'll post the link in my profile.   
**

**Chapter 11**

After the confusing encounter with Malfoy in the library, Harry was in need of some undisturbed calm and he intended to spend his time till dinner on the couch of Slytherin's study.

His class mates seemed to soley focus on exploring their sex lives these days or bemoaning the lack of it. Making sense of their mugged up hormones and keeping them at least somewhat in control seemed to take up most of their time. Harry did not have that luxury.

He wished having had a confusing make out session with Malfoy was the only thing he had to worry about.

However, he could not afford to sink himself into the compartively joyful troubles that came with being a teenager. He needed to coax a memory out of Slughorn and come up with a plan on how to do it. He had to prepare for the meeting with his lawyer and work through his ideas on investments as well.

He was unearthing so many puzzles these days. House elf magic was something he would like to investigate further; his linage and the ancestry of muggle borns as well. Harry decided to draw up a list of things to set into motion and how to do so.

In order to strengthen his political standing, he should start researching his ancestry as soon as possible but how was he supposed to contact a muggle genealogists while he was at Hogwarts? He could not send them an owl. Maybe he could ask Hermione to set her parents on that task? That seemed like a workable plan. Harry scrawled the idea into his note book and decided to ask her at dinner.

"Rather sour today, aren't you, Mr. Potter?" Slytherin drawled from his portrait.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Harry looked up, "I don't think you would be that interested in the moods of a teenager."

"Indeed," Slytherin sneered as Harry once again retreated into his jumbled mind. Harry felt tired. There he had come down to the Chamber, only to be pestered by Slytherin's portrait.

How could he have forgotten about the portrait?

Harry could not allow himself to let his mask slip in front of this portrait. He had to pull his act together.

"On the other hand, with so little to occupy my time with, I might as well listen to your rants. Who would I tell anyway?" Slytherin broke the silence after a while.

"Who indeed," Harry smirked, "though I do intend to bring some people with me soon," he told him then.

"Who?" Slytherin inquired sharply.

"Friends and allies. We need a secure place to plan and train. I'd rather not have the headmaster interfering."

"What is your Headmaster like?"

"He's what you'd call a muggle- loving fool," Harry responded.

"So what do _you_ think of him then?" asked the Founder back.

"While he is indeed far too ignorant and trusting of muggles, he is no fool though he has made some very foolish choices," Harry gave his carefully worded assessment of Dumbledore.

"Foolish choices?" Slytherin repeated, digging deeper.

"He essentially watched the dark wizard grow up to what he has become. Other than openly mistrusting him he has done nothing to prevent it. He watched a small boy, who was abused by muggles be further bullied at Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore is partially responsible for the danger our world finds itself in now."

"Fool," Slytherin snarled.

"He can be extremely foolish, but he is no fool, even though he has most people convinced that he is delusional,"

"So what is the name of my last descendant, disgrace to my blood that he is?"

"Tom Riddle, you might have actually met him. He has been to the Chamber of Secrets; he let the basilik loose."

Slytherin's mask was unreadable.

"Indeed," came the standard reply Harry had come to enjoy giving as well, as it gave absolutely nothing away.

"So what has you in such a bad mood today?"

Harry internally groaned. "There is this guy – actually he is in your house – whose family has strong ties to Voldemort. His father has been imprisoned since the end of last school year. He is falling apart. I can only guess that he is pressured to join his father's master. He lacks the guts it takes to join Voldemort – killing and torturing in cold blood – maybe he is even too good natured.

He surely is far too proud for the reality of service to Voldemort, spoilt brat that he is. There's no glory in it; only attempting to avoid pain, nothing to gain. It's eating away at him, whether to join the madman or to go against his family. We have talked a lot this year and now he has kissed me and then he ran away and..." Harry was at a loss for words.

"I see," said Slytherin, though what he saw Harry had no clue. Slytherin did not seem like one to offer advise to distraught teenagers though and Harry had not expected anything of the like. It simply felt good to get it off his chest.

"So who have you grown up with?" Slytherin wanted to know.

"My mother's sister and her family," Harry answered evasively.

"What line did your mother come from?" Slytherin inquired.

"My mother was muggle born," Harry admitted, his head held high; after all, he was not ashamed of his mother who had died for him, nor was he ashamed of his linage.

"You're a half- blood?"

"Obviously," Harry said.

"I presume you are related to me on your father's side then?"

"No," Harry said, "My father's linage was recorded in great detail and he has definitely not been a descendant of your's."

"Then why is it that you can speak Parseltongue?"

"It might be that my mother was a distant descendant of yours, possibly by a squib relative. I don't know whether she had the gift herself."

Dumbledore had suggested that Voldemort had transferred some of his power to him and that this was how Harry had the ability to speak the snake language. There were so many things that did not add up with that theory.

Harry decided to introduce this idea to the founder nevertheless. Maybe if Slytherin learnt that the sacrifice of his muggleborn mother had saved him from Avada Kedavra, he might change his mind about the trustworthiness of muggleborns and about blood purity in general. Blocking Avada Kedavra was not only unheard of but also had to require a lot of magical power.

Harry recounted the events of that night the best he could to the incredulous portrait.

"You survived the killing curse?" Slytherin sneered disbelievingly.

"Stupid thing to be famous for, isn't it?" Harry said and moodily retreated back into his mind, plotting on how to coax the real memory out of the former head of Slytherin.

The man had a lot to answer for and even after having only seen the fake memory Harry was disgusted with the former head of Slytherin. He felt like giving the Slug a piece of his mind, venting his temper a bit, which was growling under the restraints of his new Slytherin attitude now even more than before, as the chamber had not offered him the solitude he had craved so much.

Maybe the Slug would offer the real memory, if Harry made it clear that with the fake memory his opinion of the teacher could already not sink any lower. He did not need to know that Harry knew the momory to be a fake.

With that vague plan in mind Harry knocked on the door of Slughorn's office.

"Harry," Slughorn beamed, "How nice of you to come see me."

"Professor," Harry inclined his head.

"Come in, Come in," Slughorn exclaimed and guided Harry by his shoulders to the sitting room.

"Would you like a drink? Tea, pumpkin juice, butterbeer, or perhaps something stronger?" Slughorn asked and seated himself in an armchair close to Harry's.

"No thank you, Sir," Harry said, "Actually, I have come to talk about the memory you gave the Headmaster."

"What about it?"

"You and Tom Riddle seemed to have been quite close."

"Now, see here – everybody makes a mistake once in a while."

Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You are aware that the hierarchy of the Slug Club at that time made it that much easier for Voldemort–" Slughorn flinched and Harry smiled grimly at him – "to recruit followers."

"Honestly, Harry!" Slughorn interrupted, "Tom Riddle was a sweet boy at the time. I couldn't foresee that he would ..."

"He has certainly learnt a lot from you on how to keep his underlings in line. I guess, you have been something like a role model to the future dark lord. You, Professor Slughorn have a lot to answer for," Harry said, incensed.

"In hindsight it is always easy to say what should have been done differently." Slughorn defended himself.

"The way you ran the Slug Club, something like that was bound to happen sooner or later. You assembled the spineless and power hungry around you; you created the perfect environment for someone like Voldemort to recruit Death Eaters!"

"Now see – Harry – I don't have to listen to this," Slughorn sounded flustered, but the effect was diminished by the frightened tremor in his voice.

"I wonder – doesn't he want you by his side? I find it hard to believe that he has left you alone. Doesn't he want his former mentor at his feet in front of him to show how well he has learnt his lessons?"

"I – he..." Slughorn had paled. Droplets of sweat glittered on his forehead.

"Is this why you are in such a hurry to have me finish him off?"

Slughorn seemed to be at a loss for words. It had probably been a while since somebody had attempted to put him in his place and even longer since somebody had done so successfully.

Harry however, had just the right tools in his hands; the knowledge of man's errors and the power to get away with scolding him. To an extent Slughorn even had to listen to him, as he wanted Harry to off Voldemort for him.

"I've been on the run from him for all last year, till Dumbledore convinced me to come teach here."

"You've been on the run from your former favourite? Don't you feel honoured that he hasn't forgotten you yet?"

"I would never join the Dark Lord!" exclaimed Slughorn.

"I guess you wouldn't. Power games are not that much fun on the bottom rather than the top, are they?" Harry kept his sneer fixed on Slughorn, who squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. He had said his piece and now he had to wait for Slughorn to react.

"I can't undo the past," Slughorn finally stated.

"Running from past mistakes will sooner or later catch up with you."

"You can't know how deeply I regret my part in the making of the Dark Lord!"

"One way or another, you will have to atone for your mistakes," Harry stated.

"What do you want from me?"

"I offer you to aid me in defeating the Dark Lord you have helped along the way."

"I am no fighter!" exclaimed Slughorn.

"You have been well acquainted with Tom Riddle. Right now you are the best available source for information about the future Dark Lord."

"If he ever catches me..."

"Then it will hardly matter to him whether you have actively defied him, or merely don't support him. You have but two valiant options. You could either join him and lick his boots, or you do all in your power to aid in his defeat. The faster he is gone, the better your odds at survival."

Slughorn heaved himself from his seat, then rummaged through a storage cabinet on the other end of the room. He took out a small vial of what Harry identified as a strong calming draught. His sweaty hands fumbled with the stopper for some time. Finally he downed the vial in one go. He continued his pacing, till he finally propped himself an armchair across from Harry.

"Alright," he said, "I'll do what I can."

Slughorn looked defeated. He knew that he had no options left. However, this did not prevent him from trying to negotiate.

"Will you offer me your protection then?"

"You're asking a teenager for protection?"

"Aren't you the Chosen One?"

"If I spend my time babysitting adult men, I won't ever get anything done. Your best protection is to supply me with the tools to defeat him as soon as possible."

Slughorn gulped and resumed his pacing. Obviously, he was well aware that he was in no position to make any demands. Harry had successfully brought across that not only his "good" name but his very life was on the line.

"Actually, the memory you have seen was not completely accurate. I believe that the authentic one would indeed give you the tools to defeat him," Slughorn admitted, red faced.

"Then would you give me the real memory?" Harry asked. This time his voice was only slightly coloured with rebuke, and distinctly warmer.

"Yes, of course. Let me get you a vial." Slughorn was once again bustling about. Finally he produced a vial from one of the cupboards and without further ado he put his wand to his temple and extracted a silver mist, which he put into the vial. He pushed the vial into Harry's hand and ushered him out, obviously very intent on getting rid of him.

The carrot and stick worked best with Slughorn, who might just prove to be a useful ally after all, Harry mused and decided to get Slughorn his favourite pineapple candy, when he went to Hogsmeade to meet his lawyer.

It wasn't that he had developed a sudden liking for his Professor. His cowardly demand for protection had lost him any leftover respect for the man, whose sole ambition seemed to be his own comfort.

However, he rather thought that Slughorn might dedicate himself more to the task if he felt that his efforts were appreciated and he didn't soley cooperate because circumstances had left him with no other options, as Harry had so forcefully pointed out to him.

By now Harry's mood had improved drastically. He had finally gotten somewhere. Elated, Harry made his way to the Great Hall for dinner.

He and his friends spent dinner idly chatting among themselves about nothing specific and certainly not anything of importance, as had become their habit out of fear of being overheard. Then after dinner, they once again detoured from the common room to an unused class room. This time they did not even attempt to get into the Room of Requirement first, as these days the room simply did not open up to them.

"Hermione, do you think your parents would contact the genealogists for us, so we can finally start researching the ancestry of muggleborns?" Harry asked as soon as the room was securely warded, so as not to forget asking her.

"I guess they would be quite interested in that as well," Hermione said, "They have always wondered how magic could manifest itself in the child of two down to earth scientists."

"You're down to earth as well," Neville frowned.

"Well, yeah – which to my parents made the invitation to Hogwarts all the more inexplainable, though it was their dream come true – their child with special abilities," Hermione attempted to explain.

Harry smiled at his friend and Hermione promised to owl her parents as soon as possible.

Then Harry told his friends how he had wheedled the real memory out of Slughorn.

"How I would have liked to see that!" Ginny grinned. She had no warm feelings left for Slughorn either. His blubbering compliments strained her patience and nerves.

Neville just shook his head.

"Harry, how can you talk to a Professor like that?!" Hermione was appalled. "You should show more respect!"

"Respect has to be earned," Harry responded shortly.

"He has to be fifty years your elder! You're only a teenager and he's your teacher!" Hermione argued.

"Voldemort doesn't care about my age. I have a job to get done. How would you have coaxed the memory out of him?" Harry responded hotly.

"Well...," Hermione wrung her hands. "I don't know."

Harry stared hard at her. Hermione could be so infuriating at times.

"Gran doesn't like him either," Neville offered, obviously in an attempt to prevent the beginning argument from further escalating.

Harry smiled gratefully at him.

"How did your grandmother react to you going to the Department of Mysteries, by the way?" he asked.

"Oh, she was proud, of course," Neville said, "She has always wanted me to follow in my father's footsteps."

"Don't adults usually want their children to be safe?" Ginny said, thinking about her own mother.

"Gran takes great pride in family. She wants me to uphold the honor of the Longbottom name. Of course, she also expects me to find a suitable witch to marry and have a bunch of kids to continue the line..."

"You're what? You're only sixteen and are already expected to think about marriage?!" Hermione asked, astonished.

"The magical community isn't large and there are not many to chose from. Gran wants me to keep my eyes open. She fears that I'll dawdle and then there won't be any good matches left."

"That's a rather practical approach to it," Harry observed.

"A lot of marriages are arranged since birth, especially between the more wealthy families," Ginny explained.

"Gran doesn't like the idea of committing to a choice that early on. She wouldn't like to be saddled with a dumb or magically weak granddaughter- in- law, or one who'd turn out to be a disgrace to the family. And, since she met Lily Potter," - Neville looked at Harry –"she also thinks that it might be a good idea to consider muggleborns as well and those we get to know at Hogwarts."

"_You_ have to marry her and live with her for the rest of your life – not your grandmother!" Hermione exclaimed.

"It's just the way things are done in most families. Lot's of people don't get any say in this at all," Ginny said.

"So how about you and your brothers? Are you expected to be on the look out for suitable partners as well?"

"No, my parents were a love match. They wish for us to marry for love as well, though they would certainly have approved were you to marry into the family. My mother's family was against my father at first and it caused all kinds of problems."

"So basically all purebloods are already on the look out for a wife or husband?" Hermione was baffled and her tone of voice clearly showed that she considered this part of wizarding customs horribly backwards.

"Well," Neville looked nervous, "If the family thinks that their children are not capable of finding a suitable match themselves, they might decide to take matters into their own hands." Neville shuddered. "I wouldn't want Gran helping me."

For the first time Harry felt glad that he did not have to accommodate the wishes of his family. In fact, he did not even know his parents wishes. On the other hand, Harry would have liked to have an adult to talk over the confusing encounter with Malfoy.

"So how do you go about finding a wife?" Harry asked intrigued. He had not realized that Neville was even actively looking for a girlfriend. In fact, Neville had never shown a particular interest in anybody but maybe Hermione and Ginny.

"I don't know," Neville said helplessly, "I'm so shy and then nobody in particular has picked my interest, but then I don't know a lot of girls."

"You'll do fine," Ginny reassured him, "Oh Harry, before I forget – Blaise wants to meet with you."

"Blaise, it is?" Harry smirked.

Ginny blushed. "Uh, yeah, we talked a bit this afternoon. He's a nice bloke."

"Alright," Harry nodded, "I'll talk to him." and thought that he had been right – Zabini already had Ginny wrapped around his finger. Probably Ginny was right and Zabini was a nice bloke, but Harry would have been more at ease if Ginny didn't trust that easily.

**I really do like reviews. Any comments you might have can only improve the story!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for commenting on my story! **

**Chapter 13 and 14 are already written. Right now I'm doing some last minute editing, but they should be up soon.**

**Right now I, unfortunately find myself betaless once again. Who would feel up up for the job? **

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**Chapter 12**

On Friday afternoon Harry entered the Three Broomsticks and felt anticipation slowly building in his stomach. Employing a lawyer was a big step to independence after all.

At the bar he was directed to a back room, where Lawyer Greengrass was already waiting. He had the same mousy brown hair as his niece at Hogwarts, hanging loose to his waist. All in all, with his sharp yellow eyes that reminded of Madam Hooch, he was an imposing wizard.

"Mr. Potter," the lawyer greeted quietly with a deep booming voice, "It is nice to meet you at last."

"Lawyer Greengrass," Harry inclined his head and offered his hand, which the Lawyer took.

"Would you like to place an order?" the lawyer inquired and Harry noticed the house elf, standing in the corner of the room.

"A butterbeer, please," Harry smiled at the elf, who popped away and returned with two butterbeers in the blink of an eye, only to pop away again and leave them alone.

"Shall we then proceed to business?" the Lawyer suggested, all the while watching Harry attentively.

"Yes please," Harry nodded and after putting on a strong set of wards on the room he took the seat the lawyer offered to him. For a couple of moments they remained silent, eyeing each other calculatingly.

"I presume, you are looking for a lawyer to permanently watch over your affairs?" Lawyer Greengrass then inquired smoothly.

"Ideally, yes," Harry nodded, "though we have yet to determine, whether you would be comfortable with that position."

In typical pureblood manner the lawyer raised an eyebrow to indicate his undivided attention.

"You see, I might require my lawyer to step on the toes of a few very influential people." Harry explained and took a sip of his butterbeer.

"That's my job." the lawyer said, "I have no qualms about going legally against supporters of the Dark Lord."

"What about going against the ministry, Fudge, Umbridge or Dumbledore then?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore?" the lawyer reaffirmed astonished and seemed to ponder the prospect for a while.

"With pleasure," he barred his teeth to a predatory grin, "but I've had the impression that the two of you were quite close?"

"Obviously, we are on the same side of this war, meaning against Voldemort, but there are a lot of things where we don't see eye to eye. So yes, it might come to that and when it does, I don't want to have to look for a new lawyer."

"You seem intend on opposing all influential groups of our society. What has brought that on?"

"I'm my own man. I don't intend to let the ministry or Dumbledore use me for their own purposes, as they are not mine."

Both eyebrows shot up, "Indeed," Lawyer Greengrass said, "I'd say you'd need a good lawyer. I cordially offer you my services." He intoned formally and opened one of the many folders spread across the table.

"This is the customary binding contract, ensuring that I solely act in your interest in regards to your legal affairs and to the best of my abilities." he explained, offering the folder to Harry, "It further prevents me to disclose any of your affairs without your explicit permission."

Harry looked the contract over and nodded approvingly. The contract regulated the fee to be paid, as well. His lawyer would gain three galleons per hour spend on Harry's affairs and then would get paid fifty galleons for his winning causes by the opposing party, as was customary in the wizarding world.

"That seems to be in order."

The lawyer offered him a quill, " To be magically binding the contract has to be signed in blood by both of us."

Harry eyed the blood quill warily, as it brought memories of his detentions with Umbridge to mind. Then he resolutely took the quill and signed his name under the contract in a flourish. He hardly felt the cut drawing his blood, but his queasiness had not gone unnoticed.

"Is something the matter?" his lawyer asked.

"I still bear the marks of the blood quill I had to use in my detentions with Umbridge," Harry explained and offered the back of his hand for the man to see.

Lawyer Greengrass drew in a sharp breath.

"I assume, you want to press charges?" His sharp eyes shone with glee and his lips qirked slightly upwards.

"Definitely," Harry smiled grimly.

"Well, let's start with your charges against the Daily Prophet, shall we?"

"Let's,"Harry agreed.

"For the sake of this case I have to ask: Is it true that you're gay?"

"Yes, for once they've got the facts right, but they have no business reporting on my personal life."

"I will see what I can do," his lawyer nodded and made a note on his paper. "They will be charged with invading the privacy of a minor and for last year we can also charge them with defamation of character."

"What are our chances to succeed?" Harry wanted to know.

"Quite good on legal grounds, I'd say, but the Daily Prophet is quite influential. So it will take a while."

Harry sighed.

"In regards to Umbridge our chances are much better to get her removed from office to begin with," the lawyer continued. "Immediately, after we have pressed charges the ministry will want to wash their hands of her. They might even want to press charges themselves. You might also succeed in pressing charges against the ministry as a whole, or Fudge at least.

Harry pondered that. Was it advisable to go through with suing the ministry? On one hand, he did not need any more enemies than he already had and he might need the ministry's cooperation to put his plans into action. On the other hand, he wanted to leave everybody with the impression that he was not to be trifled with, that eventually he would always retaliate.

"Let's start with Umbridge and dangle the possibility over the ministry's head. We can decide later on, if we want to follow through with that," Harry decided then.

"As you wish," his lawyer nodded his acquiescence, "It would help me greatly, if you gave me memories of those detentions and any other memories incriminating her further. It is more accurate than having you recount the events."

"Sure," Harry nodded.

"We can do this right now. I have brought a pensieve." Lawyer Greengrass offered.

Harry agreed and was swiftly talked through the process of removing a memory.

"You need to think of the memory, you want to extract. Bring it to the front of your mind and focus on the point you wish to bring across." the lawyer instructed, "The incantation is extraho memoria"

Harry selected the memories of his first lesson with Umbridge, his detentions and how she had attempted to Crucio him before he had set off to the department of mysteries. Then he also added the memory of her admitting that she had sent the dementors after him.

They entered the pensieve together and his lawyer silently watched the events unfold.

"That will be enough for a life sentence in Azkaban," he said with a gleam in his eyes, after they had stepped out of the pensive again. "That is, if we can prevent the ministry from hushing this up to keep their faces."

"I don't think they will dare to do that. It would give me all the more reason to sue the ministry." Harry replied.

"Of course," his lawyer's smirk was almost fond. "They are more likely to offer a bargain to you. Obviously, Fudge will be incriminated as well, but with him no longer minister, Minister Scrimgour will probably attempt to approach you, turn over a new leaf in the ministry's dealings with you and in turn attempt to distance himself as far as possible from Fudge."

Harry nodded. That might actually turn out to his advantage.

"If this is all ... " Lawyer Greengrass began.

"Actually, I'd like to outline some of my plans and consult you on which of those I can implement while still being underage."

Lawyer Greengrass indicated for Harry to go ahead. Then folded his hands in his lap and gazed calmly at Harry.

"Basically, I'd like to found an organisation for magical children, raised in the muggle world, starting with offering them pre-Hogwarts summer courses on the wizarding world, later on turning it into a permanent home for abused and orphaned magical children," Harry outlined one of his many plans.

The lawyer hummed thoughtfully "Legally, you are entitled to support and found non profit beneficial organisations up to the age of fourteen. Financially though – you wont be able to enter your family fault, till you are of age, but..."

"Family fault?" Harry asked through narrowed eyes.

"Of course. Wait – you mean – you don't know?"

Harry shook his head. It seemed that again things had been kept from him.

"The Potters were one of the wealthiest families of modern British society. You'll inherit a fortune and several properties on your seventeenth birthday."

"Dumbledore, again," Harry growled.

"With your permission, I will enquire all of your legal documentation for our next meeting, to go through together."

"Yes, please." Harry said grimly.

"I presume, your inheritance from Sirius Black went into your trust fund, so you should have the monetary resources. After all the Blacks have been modestly well of."

In regards to Sirius' death, money had been the furthest from Harry's mind, but then his fault had seemed fuller, when he had visited it over the summer, though Harry had paid it no mind at the time. Money simply did not matter to him, as long as he had enough. After all money was merely a tool to get what he wanted, whether it was supplies or the reformation of the magical world.

Harry nodded slowly and wondered why Sirius' will had been read in his absence, but that could wait until later. If he had indeed Sirius' money added to his fault, it would only be right to help the last remaining marauder with that money. Surely Sirius would have approved.

"Then I would also like to found an organisation to further werewolf rights and supply wolves bane potion, on what scale will depend on my financial resources."

"You are aware that you will cause quite the stir?" the lawyer asked, not appearing concerned at all.

"I will leave my mark on this world," Harry stated with a smirk.

"Indeed, you will," the lawyer chuckled, "It will be quite the challenge to work for you, as you will be met with constant opposition from almost all fractions. It's bound to get ugly pretty soon," he delightfully rubbed his hands. "I don't have to start on the topic of werewolves, of course. You know the general stand on that matter! To all fractions of society muggleborns are a touchy subject as well, which has now been avoided for approximately a thousand years for that very reason."

"Well, what good has that done. It's long over due to meet the topic head on." Harry said.

"Indeed," Lawyer Greengrass said.

"Are you comfortable with acting as my lawyer in regards to those volatile subjects?" Harry asked just to make sure.

"I love to cause a stir as well," the lawyer waved away Harry's concerns. "Winning difficult causes, furthers my reputation.

Personally, I'm not adverse to any of your projects, neither, although that would hardly matter." Lawyer Greengrass explained.

"May this be a profitable busienss for both of us" the lawyer then formally concluded their first ever meeting. They shook hands and the lawyer promised to keep him up to date with.

Harry stepped into the floo and landed in the headmaster's office shortly after. He braced himself for the interrogation that was sure to come.

"So Harry, did you have a productive meeting?" the Headmaster asked kindly.

"Headmaster," Harry nodded courteously, "Only time can tell, right?" he added then with an eerily close imitation of Dumbledore's twinkle.

"Actually, I was able to retrieve the real memory from Professor Slughorn. So I will see you Sunday at eight?" he only just remembered to inform him and thus he had swiftly changed the topic.

The Headmaster clapped his hands together in delight.

"Splendid"

"I wish you would trust me more," Dumbledore then sighed sadly.

"And I wish I could, but I'm afraid I can't, Headmaster," Harry replied just as sadly and with a final polite nod he left the office."

How he longed for an adult to confide in, to trust, but the Headmaster had proven time and time again, that he could not be trusted.


	13. Chapter 13

**I couldn't wait any longer to have someone look this over before I posted this. I just could not resist. I might edit the chapter later on, but right now I have already chapter 15 ready and I'm itching to get to the more gloomy parts of this story. **

**Posting a new chapter and then looking at the statistics to see how many people have already read the new chapter always gives me a boost, when I'm stuck. Reviews are even more motivating, of course! So thanks for reviewing!  
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**Chapter 13**

On his way back form the headmaster's office to the common room Harry almost bumped into Zabini.

"Potter"

"Zabini" Harry replied, offering his hand to shake.

He longed for some calm, but he could not possibly avoid their conversation now. He did not think it a mere coincidence that he had run into Zabini. Obviously, he had been looking for him.

"Would you like to continue our talk in an unused class room?" he offered, giving in to the inevitable.

"Of course," Zabini nodded in acceptance.

In a school as large as Hogwarts an unused class room was easily found, but Harry preferred those that were far from any of the common rooms and the Great Hall. While his wards had become quite good by now, a room that did not open up, were one attempting to get in, would arise suspicions. For the same reason Harry and his friends had never met in the same class room twice in a row.

The class room he chose was covered in dust and cobwebs and had probably been left unused for decades.

"Dobby," Harry called, when a sneeze threatened to come out.

"Harry Potter has called?" Dobby exclaimed happily and then after seeing that he was not alone, he asked slightly more subdued. "What can I do for you?"

"Can you clean this place a little?"

"Right away, right away, Harry Potter!" Dobby said and with a snap of his fingers the layers of dust and cobwebs vanished, and the room was sparkling clean.

"Anything else?"

"Conjure us some nice armchairs and a coffee table and please bring some refreshments" Harry said, careful to word his request as a command, now that he understood house elf magic a little better.

Several finger snaps later Dobby had conjured a cosy looking seating area and then popped away only to return a moment later with a large plate of sandwiches, pastries and an assortment of beverages.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry smiled at him, "That will be all for now. Return the room to its former state later on, if you would."

Dobby grinned, bobbing his head up and down. "Anything for the great Harry Potter"

"Thanks," Harry said and Dobby popped away.

Then Harry warded the room with practised ease, while Zabini watched him attentively.

"That was interesting."

"How so?"

"One can usually tell a great deal about someone's personality by how he treats his inferiors."

Harry inclined his head in agreement, although Harry did not consider Dobby or house elves in general inferior but there was no use getting into that at this point.

"Kindness can get you much further than fear."he offered and Zabini nodded slowly.

"Well Potter, I have wanted to talk to you for a while now." he said then.

"Sorry, I couldn't get to you sooner," Harry replied and they stared calculatingly at each other for a while.

At the first glance Zabini appeared calm and collected, his features schooled into polite indifference. At a closer look his carefully concealed tension became visible. He was poised, every muscle tensed in anticipation, no unnecessary move to distract his concentration from observing Harry.

How Harry hated this manoeuvring around each other, but it also made his nerves tingle with excitement, anticipating Zabini's next move. Zabini's tenseness gave away how important a meeting he considered this to be.

"Obviously, you know what this is about," Zabini finally stated, astonishingly direct for a Slytherin, but maybe he was simply fed up with dancing around the topic, now that he had finally gotten a hold of Harry.

Harry inclined his head, but chose not to interrupt.

"The Zabinis have never been fighters. We are mercenaries and thus generally not politically inclined. My family has remained neutral in the last war and as much as I would prefer for it to stay that way, this time that wont be possible. As soon as I leave school I will be approached to join the Dark Lord."

"Obviously," Harry stated, "neutrality won't be an option."

"I know that basically I'll have to chose between you and him." Zabini said stiffly. In his voice swung resigned acceptance and some stubborn defiance as well.

"That's not what I meant. I was merely trying to point out to you that Voldemort views all those not with him as opposition. For that reason alone neutrality is not an option." Harry explained, while moving his fingers through his hair.

"No?" Zabini raised his left eyebrow, all the while studying Harry intently and Harry was artfully put on the defensive.

"I don't request that you agree to all of my ideals, aside from siding against Voldemort," Harry began.

"Would you require me to fight in battles, were I to join you?"

"I don't require anything of anybody which is not given freely." Harry said, "And this war won't be only fought in battles."

"You do not seem to be with Dumbledore anymore."

"No, I'm not. I guess, the only thing we agree on these days is that Voldemort has to be stopped. Even our reasoning is different."

"Is that so?" Zabini tilted his head.

Those short utterances of scepticism were ingenious interrogation tools Harry had to admit, as one felt compelled to elaborate, to explain and thus tended to reveal far more than one had originally wanted. Harry suppressed the urge to blurt out all kinds of assurances and carefully chose his words.

"My main concern at the moment is that Voldemort's actions will expose our existence to the muggles. I know what they are capable of and they would feel threatened by us. We would not stand a chance against them."

Zabini merely raised his eyebrows a little higher. There Harry was again, attempting to explain the recent developments of muggle technology to a Pureblood.

"I could lend you some books on those topics," Harry finally offered.

"Why do you know that much about muggles anyway?" Zabini asked blank faced.

"I grew up among them," Harry sighed.

"Well, obviously you didn't like it," Zabini stated with a quirk of his lips.

"No, I didn't." Harry said shortly. He was tired of repeating the same things to different people over and over. He would have to find a way to get around that. So far he had recited his point of view only trice and it had gained him merely four allies, Neville, Ginny, Hermione and now Zabini. May be he could prepare a speech to outline his goals and record it somehow? Maybe he should get a pensieve himself.

A pensieve might also help him to win over Slytherin's portrait, if he showed him the right memories.

"Listen you don't necessarily have to agree with me on this. Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair once again.

"Basically, I just want enforced secrecy from the muggle world and a tutoring program for muggle raised children before they attend Hogwarts," Harry summed up.

"That is alright with me," Zabini shrugged.

"Good" Harry smiled. This time he had not laid out all of his plans but the basics were covered.

"I am no fighter," Zabini raised what seemed to be his main concern.

"Well," Harry said, "This war will not only be fought on battle fields. I view people as individuals and not as human resources to be used as canon fodder. Every individual has his own unique strengths. I'm sure, we'll find an occupation that plays to your strengths."

Zabini's posture seemed to lose some of it's stiffness, but his eyes were still guarded.

"What protections do you offer to those siding with you?"

"I'm working on that," Harry frowned, "Ideally I will be able to provide a save place to go to those seeking refuge. I have only begun sorting through options. Soon I will also offer defence lessons to those opposing Voldemort, again. While I do not require anybody to fight in battles, who is unwilling to do so, a strong defence is always a good thing to have. "

"Besides anybody on my side not adequately capable to defend himself would be a weak link. I will attempt to offer lessons on a scale as large as possible. Voldemort's progress will slow down a lot with more people capable to defend themselves. So this would help me as well," Harry added.

It was always important to point out to a Slytherin what advantage one hoped to gain from ones actions, as selfless deeds were generally met with suspicion and his motives would never be taken at face value, if there was no obvious self gain in his actions.

Zabini nodded.

"So far you don't have to offer anything definite." he then pointed out.

"Neither do I require as much as Voldemort. I don't intend to meddle with your life. The minimum requirement for an alliance is that you side against Voldemort. And whatever your ideals, Voldemort is no option."

"And why is that, Potter?" Zabini's face gave nothing away.

If he had expected any kind of idealistic pep talk, Harry was sure to disappoint him. He did not want to found a new philosophy in his quest to seek allies. He merely wanted to join all forces opposing Voldemort.

He would obviously start to implement his own ideas on how to remodel the wizarding world in the war effort, but that did not mean that all of his allies had to agree with all of his ideas. Allies against Voldemort could as well be opponents to some or all of his other aims. His ideas were so complex and varied that he might find different allies for his different goals, which opposed him and each other vehemently in regards to other topics.

Those supporting his muggleborn integration program were likely to be opposed to his werewolf help organisation. If he required his allies to side with him on all of those topics, he would gain hardly any allies at all and unlike Dumbledore Harry did not believe that his solutions had to be the only ones or even necessarily the right ones, only because he had been the one to come up with them.

"When Voldemort is finished there wont be anything left, or do you think, he would release you of servitude, that the tortures would stop? Do you think he would start to hand out invitations to tea?" Harry snorted at the mere idea.

He had pointed out the most sensible reason for everybody to side against Voldemort. As far as he was concerend, opposing Voldemort was not a question of ideals, but going with ones survival instincts.

"Alright I'm in." Zabini said slowly. This seemed suspiciously sudden and Harry realized that Zabini had planned to ally himself with him all along but had merely wanted to get a grasp of what exactly he was getting himself into.

Obviously, Harry had turned out to be a far better option than Zabini had dared to hope for. As a typical Slytherin Zabini would not let on that he would have been ready to commit himself much further than what Harry expected of him.

The typical Slytherin move for Harry would have been to milk that notion for all it was worth and attempting to get as much out of Zabini as possible.

Harry however was also a Gryffindor and thus not nearly as ruthless, if he did not have to be. He considered it unwise to pressure his allies into actions they did not feel comfortable with.

A Slytherin would always fight to win or not fight at all. He did not need to pressure Zabini to help achieve their common goal to vanquish Voldemort, once he had committed himself to that goal. An ally was only a really ally, if he acted out of his own free will. Otherwise, sooner or later, he would stab you in the back, if what he was supposed to do interfered with his own goals. It was far better to openly oppose each other on some topics than to have a supposed ally betray you.

"Listen," Harry said, "Contrary to Voldemort I seek allies, not servants. Losing is not an option for neither of us. Therefore, I trust you to do all in your power to help with that and you know your strengths far better than I do."

Zabini nodded sharply. He looked relieved and also weary, as if this sounded to good to be true.

"Great," Harry smiled, "Would you meet with my friends and me soon then, so we can discuss what you can do to help and what you are willing to do?"

"Of course," Zabini nodded.

"Well that's settled then."

They quietly sipped at their butterbeer and Harry took a pumpkin pastry. Due to his meeting with Lawyer Greengrass he had missed dinner and now he was quite ravenous. One question was still nagging at him though.

"What is going on between Ginny and you?" he finally blurted out.

"Ginevra is an intriguing young woman, isn't she," Zabini replied pleasantly, his eyes sparkling with amusement in recognition of Harry's Gryffindor bluntness.

"Nobody calls her that." Harry said. Somehow he did not think Ginny would like to be called by her given name.

"I am well aware of that," Zabini smirked, "but as I have pointed out to Ginevra as well, Ginny is the name of a child, while she has grown into a beautiful young woman."

Harry guessed that he was probably right on that account, but not only did he not appreciate the female physic that much, he had also known her since she had been a small girl, so he had not been that much aware of the differences in her appearance, while he had certainly noticed that Ginny had matured greatly and had become much more confident.

"Ginny is a great friend," Harry stated, "I would not want her to get hurt." He did not need to utter threats. That he would have Harry to answer to, in addition to her brothers went without saying.

"I don't think she would appreciate you putting your nose in, Potter, but you are only being a good friend. So I will answer and I can put you at ease. My intentions are quite honourable. For now I merely wish to get to know her. Then it will be up to me and her to see where this will lead. So far I do believe though that we might suit each other greatly" Zabini replied mildly.

Harry smiled at him, "Glad to hear it. As long as she is happy, I will be happy for the both of you. Obviously, I can't speak for her family, especially her brothers."

"I must be mad, attempting to ask out a girl with six older brothers."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Harry smirked, "I'd be more concerned about Ginny though, should you cross her. That is one fiery witch." he added fondly.

"That's one of the things I really like about her. She might just add some spice to my life." Zabini smiled.

"If you only want a fling with her...," Harry scowled.

"That's not what I meant. See, by the end of seventh year Daphne Greengrass and me would announce our engagement, if neither of us has found a more suitable match by then."

"Well, that doesn't serve to appease me, obviously," Harry retorted coldly, "You are currently involved with Daphne Greengrass? How does Ginny fit into that?"

"No, we are not, nor have we ever been. Daphne is my best friend and I don't think we could ever be anything more than that. I have known her all my life. We'd be the most boring couple there could possibly be, but I guess, we could pleasantly spend our lives together," Zabini shrugged.

"So we have agreed to announce our engagement, should neither of us have found a more suitable match by the end of seventh year. Obviously, I am not the man of her dreams neither, but after school our parents will start to meddle. We don't want_ their_ ideas of a suitable match to get in the way of our lives."

"So Daphne Greengrass is aware that you are courting Ginny?" Harry asked, still trying to wrap his mind about the intricacies that was the pureblood way of life.

"Of course, she is my best friend!" Zabini repeated, "I don't think she could muster any jealousy on my account, other than wondering, when someone will pick her interest. It's less than two years, till the matter is out of our hands after all."

Harry shook his head. The pureblood marriage policy still left him slightly dazed and he silently wondered why not more children opposed their parents more vehemently on that. He did not express this sentiment aloud, as this really was none of his business and it was again one of those long held customs. In his own way, Zabini was attempting to find a loophole and Harry saw no reason to offend him.

"Won't she be faced with a problem similar to yours, in regards to Voldemort? Why don't you bring her along to our next meeting, if she is interested?" Harry suggested.

"Who will be there?" Zabini wanted to know.

"Only Neville, Ginny, Hermione and me," Harry said.

"Women are hardly ever involved in Death Eater activities, so her situation is not as dire as mine, but I'll ask her." Zabini smirked, "She doesn't get out often enough as it is."


	14. Chapter 14

**This time I have posted two new chapters at once. If I don't post this chapter now, I'll only start to change everything again, instead of writing new chapters.**

**So here you go. I hope this was worth the wait**

**You can expect the next chapter in a couple of days, as it is basically written, just lying around to be thought about for a while.**

**Chapter 14**

"Hermione," Harry said, "I need you to research something."

Hermione looked up from her book. "What do you want me to research?"

"Well, it's actually quite tricky and not like the numerous researches you have done so far," Harry built up the tension and added, "but you're the best researcher I know."

"Well, what is it?" Hermione asked impatiently. He had clearly picked her interest now. Tricky research projects were Hermione's greatest passion after all and the compliment about her skills was bound to enforce her determination.

"I want you to gather facts about Serverus Snape, his parentage, his friends, everything you can find," Harry said.

"Why would you want me to do this?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Obviously, he is one of the key figures in this war," Harry explained, "I'm attempting to get a better assessment of his aims."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione said and Harry knew that for her this was still enough.

"Dumbledore has been wrong before," Harry argued.

"Oh well," Hermione sighed. Whether she agreed because she knew that Harry could not trust Dumbeldore inexplicitly anymore, or because she conceded that Dumbledore might be wrong about Snape, Harry did not know.

"Just dates and facts. If I know a little more about him, I might even come to trust him a little more myself."

"Alright," Hermione promised, "I'll do my best."

"Have you talked to Blaise?" Ginny asked.

"Uh, yeah I did," Harry admitted, "He seems to be with us. We'll meet with him soon to discuss what he can do to help."

He's nice, isn't he," Ginny smiled.

"So far yes," Harry admitted and then he added slyly, "He seems to be quite interested in you."

"He's hot," Ginny observed and then blushed. Harry nodded. He could not argue with that.

"He's in my Arithmancy and ancient Runes classes." Hermione offered, "We were partnered up a couple of times. He is quite smart, though he appears to be quite cold."

Harry thought that this might have been partly due to Hermione's bossy attitude, although the guy had been quite distant towards him as well.

Hermione and Ginny huddled together to further discuss Zabini and Harry sighed. He did not exactly feel comfortable with the prospect of joining girl talk. Watching Hermione giggle was disturbing in and of itself. And then the topic only made him want to retreat into his mind and dissect his encounter with Malfoy – as he had come to call it - again.

Besides, he should really visit the chamber again. He was not that confident any longer that he could win Slytherin's portrait over to his side and feared that in the end his efforts had been in vain. He still intended to use the chamber as a refuge, when he needed some alone time and as an occasional meeting place though. He did not want to waste the possibilities the chamber offered any longer, as he rather felt like he was running out of time.

So Harry found himself once again in a verbal sparing match with Slytherins portrait.

"So what has you as a halfblood yourself so set against muggles?" Slytherin sneered at one point in their conversation.

Harry had expected something of the like at some point, of course. It really was unavoidable. Still this came quite out of the blue and set him slightly off as it was clearly meant to do. Harry fought to regain his footing and reigned in his control.

"Well, growing up with them, I know how they think," Harry began calmly, "By now there are six billion humans on earth and only two percent of them are magical. Especially over the last hundred and fifty years muggles have made great progress in using the laws of nature to their advantage."

He pondered on how to describe electricity to a man, who was not only a pureblood wizard but had also missed the history of a whole millennium.

"They have learnt to control the power of the thunderbolt," he finally said.

"Preposterous," Slytherin spat.

"Muggles have built a ship to visit the stars. They have successfully taken a walk on the moon," For a wizard this fact had to be the most shocking news of all. The had a influence on magic and wizarding life in general. The luminaries were treated with deference, referenced to fate and studied from afar in astronomy and astrology.

Slytherin appeared shaken by that information, but he did not appear to disbelieve Harry. The whole concept probably seemed far too outlandish to be made up.

"Muggles constantly ask the question of why things work the way they do; they intent to explain nature, as they have no means to bend nature's laws. Wizards as a whole have lost that innate gift of curiosity, the desire to unravel life's greatest secrets. They have become lazy, complacent with what they already have achieved," Harry continued,

"By now muggles are ahead of us in several areas. Their means of communication are much faster than ours, for instance.

As individuals there are good sorts and bad sorts of muggles just like with wizarding kind," Harry went on deliberately choosing his words, "but in the end they are easily influenced and with a news network as quick as their's a mob is quickly created. Muggles fear what they can't explain. Much like we do, they fear those with powers they have not."

"There have been muggle wars beyond all you could possibly imagine. Mass killing has never been easier and their weapons have powers our magic could not possibly match. They can easily kill several millions at once! In the end it was only what became known as the balance of terror that kept the opposing parties from erasing life from the face of earth. If they were to know of our existence they would persecute us, again and this time they would succeed in destroying our world," Harry stated calmly.

Harry doubted that the muggles would attempt to vanquish wizarding folk with nuclear bombs, as they'd cut into their own flesh like that, but the point was that he believed muggles to more than capable of putting an end to the wizarding world. Besides who knew what the panicked masses of muggles would come up with to eliminate the presumed threat of the magical world. Mass killing had become far to easy.

"I can't believe this!" Slytherin said, peering closely at Harry's eyes, searching for any falsehood. For a man, who had lived a thousand years ago, this was difficult to grasp, of course.

"I will attempt to collect some pictures for you," Harry offered.

"I won't believe any of it, until I see it," Slytherin said, "But if only half this is true, that filthy poser has to be stopped!"

"He will be stopped," Harry stated solemmly, once again feeling drained and only slightly thrilled at his progress with the portrait.

Harry dragged himself out of the chamber, but stopped midway inside the pipe. There was somebody in the bathroom. He could not get out now but had to wait till the other had left. Harry Potter could not be seen in a girl's bathroom and seemingly appearing out of nowhere to boot. That would be far to conspicuous and was sure to be talked about.

How much time could the average person possibly spend in a bathroom, Harry wondered, as he strained his ears to determine, whether the other was close to leaving.

Instead he heard sobs. The person was crying and he also heard Myrtle's voice. Who could be desperate enough to confide in Myrtle. Harry crept closer to the exit. This might be worth hearing after all.

"I can't do it. It won't work ... and unless I do it soon, he says he'll kill me. I don't want to do it!"

"... I can't fail," the voice sniffed.

"I have no choice!!!" he cried hysterically.

With a start Harry recognized the voice as Malfoy's. Malfoy was the one crying up their in the girl's bathroom. He cried because he was supposed to kill somebody.

Harry gaped. What was he supposed to do now? He had guessed all along that Malfoy was in a sticky situation, but he had not thought that it was that bad, that he already was that deep in. He would have to confront Malfoy about this.

"I don't want to do it. I don't want to kill Dumbledore. I don't want to kill anybody at all!" Malfoy hick-upped.

Harry decided it was time to make his presence known. Like this they did not have to spend time denying anything and could get right to the heart of the matter.

"Open just a tiny bit," Harry hissed lowly and the exit opened just enough for a wand to stick through.

Malfoy stood with his back to him, his robe dishevelled, his hair tousled.

"Expelliarmus" Harry cast voicelessly; after all Malfoy was bound to panic and who knew with what kind of hexes he would come up with, when pushed into a corner. He would rather avoid a pointless duel that could cause serious damage to both of them. Besides his friendly overtures would go over much more smoothly, if they didn't rough each other up before. A fight might destroy any level of trust they had been able to built up between the two of them.

Malfoy spun around, his eyes darting wildly, his breath coming in constricted short pants.

"Open up," Harry hissed and stepped out of the chamber, swiftly collecting Malfoy's wand. Malfoy was close to hyperventilating, upon seeing him, although Harry deliberately held his wand unthreateningly at his side.

"Potter?!!" Malfoy shrieked, "I – You..." he went quiet, as obviously, he had realized that Harry had heard at least some of what he had said and that denying any of it would be fruitless.

He took a few hastened steps to the exit, nearly toppling over his own feet.

Harry calmly raised his wand and locked the door.

"Let me out," Malfoy yelled.

"Where would you go and without your wand at that?" Harry asked.

"What do you want?" Malfoy panted.

"Talk to you. I swear, I won't harm you in any way." Harry tried to assure him.

"What is there to talk?"

"A lot," Harry stated, "You know I couldn't help but overhear what you have said."

"It is rude to listen in on private conversations," Malfoy bristled defensively.

"I believe, that is the least of your concerns."

Malfoy merely gulped. He closed his eyes, resigned, as if he expected to be hexed.

"I already told you I won't harm you," Harry said, "I know now that you find yourself in quite a dilemma and I kind of understand, better than most, I think."

"I don't have a choice," Malfoy yelled.

"Quite true," Harry nodded, "Right now you have no choice but to talk to me."

Malfoy sacked into himself, obviously realizing that Harry was right. He had no wand, the door was locked and thus he could neither escape nor hex Harry.

"Talk then," he said petulantly.

"This is no place for that kind of conversation, or any for that matter," Harry stated thoughtfully.

Malfoy's eyes darted hopefully to the door. Harry shook his head.

"May I invite you into the Chamber of Secrets?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for reviewing. Your comments really help a lot! I've finally found a new beta, who I think has done a wonderful job! Thank you HPAddictsAnonymous!!! **

**Chapter 15  
**  
"May I invite you into the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry said. Malfoy's eyes widened at the mention of the secret chamber.

"As if I had a choice," he then snorted. Harry did not comment. Malfoy hesitated . He seemed torn between the desire to visit the legendary Chamber of his esteemed Hogwarts founder and fear of being at Harry's mercy.

"After you," Harry said, motioning to the entrance with his wand. Circumstances turned what would normally be a polite manners into a mockery. After all Malfoy had no choice, as he was held almost at wand point, but Harry was not inclined to turn his back to Malfoy, who might still try to attack him.

"So you can lock me in there? Fat chance that," Malfoy scowled.

"Look, currently I can't trust you, so I don't want you behind me, but... I don't want to harm you, alright?" Harry sighed, "Take my hand, if you want."

Amazingly, Malfoy grasped his hand. He looked awed, but still he peered distrustfully into the hole he was supposed to jump into. Harry pushed both of them inside.

Prepared for what was to come and quite used to it by now, Harry landed on his feet, while Malfoy ended up in a heap on the polished black floor. His scowl darkened, till he took in his surroundings, the silveryy sheen of the arched ceiling. His eyes darted to the rune carvings on the walls.

"So this is the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Only the entrance hall," Harry said, helping Malfoy up, "When I first came here this place was creepy, giving credit to all the horror stories surrounding the chamber. Actually, you are the first person I have invited along, since Ron and I dragged Lockhart down here in our second year."

"I'm not sure, should that reassure me?" Malfoy looked around anxiously, "If you 've kept this secret, even from your friends, why would you want me to know about this?"

"I would appreciate it if you 'd kept quiet about all this, for now. I 'd rather thought you would appreciate my findings, far more than my friends. Besides we needed a safe place for a lengthy conversation."

Malfoy nodded slowly and Harry hissed quietly to open the entrance to the main chamber. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy giving a violent shudder at the sound of his hissing. Harry thought it likely that the sound reminded him of Voldemort. Did even Slytherins associate Parseltongue foremost with Voldemort?

"This place is huge," Malfoy exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his fear. Together they crossed the main chamber and Harry hissed to the snake carving leading to the study.

"Welcome to Slytherin's private study," Harry said, "Have a seat," he added, gesturing to the sitting area, when he saw Malfoy remaining uneasily at the entrance. Malfoy slowly made his way over and then perched himself on the edge of an armchair , while Harry sat in his usual spot on the couch.

The charged silence threatened to suffocate them with the thickness of things left unsaid. It seemed like they would be asphyxiated by the choked atmosphere any moment now and yet Harry could not decide on how to best approach the subject.

"Listen," Harry said, his Gryffindor side finally winning over, "You and I both know, what this is about; so I'll spare both of our nerves and cut to the chase." He gazed calmly at Malfoy. "Obviously, I know now what you are supposed to do and that you don't want to do it."

Malfoy stared stoically ahead, having apparently decided that anything he said would only incriminate him further. Harry sighed. Malfoy could pretend all he wanted, but they both knew that Harry had the upper hand and would not step aside to let Malfoy kill Dumbledore.

"Malfoy," Harry took a deep breath, "Talking this over with me, won't make much of a difference now. So you might as well take the opportunity to get it off your chest. I'd probably react much the same way you have, if I were in your shoes,"

"Obviously, you don't want to do it," Harry added.

"Of course, I don't want to do it," Malfoy snapped, "But don't you see? I don't have a choice. He'll kill me. Mother... And now you have ruined everything!"

"You have to want to do it, or you won't be able to do it," Harry said, unintentionally parroting Bellatrix Lestrange, "And it appears you already know that."

"Mother...," Malfoy repeated.

Harry had not pondered the repercussions for Narcissa Malfoy, should her son be found to have switched sides. It had simply not come to mind. Of course, Voldemort would take revenge on Malfoy's mother, if he could not get to Draco himself. It was the way Voldemort worked, how he ensured the loyalty of his followers.

Had Malfoy merely been concerned for his own life, Harry would have dismissed his motives as cowardly; but he was also concerned about his mother and that changed everything. Harry knew what it felt like to feel responsible for someone's death. He could have been blackmailed into a lot of things, to save Sirius' life.

"How would it help your mother, if you went through with whatever plan you have come up with, only to fail at your task in the end?" Harry argued, "I can understand why you would do everything in your power to save your mother, but there surely is a better solution."

Malfoy's shoulders slumped. Then however he yelled at Harry, his voice shrill and full of desperation.

"There is no solution!"

"You defect and we come up with a plan to save your skin and that of your mother," Harry suggested, "As you are bound to fail anyway, it would be far better to properly prepare for that than to hope for a miracle."

"What could I possibly do?! I don't want to die!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Malfoy!" Harry snapped, "Do you believe that I am any more powerful than you?"

"You still live," retorted Malfoy.

"That is no answer."

"You'd have to be," Malfoy said, eying Harry doubtfully.

"We've been fighting for five years. Don't you think that you would have an estimate of my power by now? I'd say we are quite evenly matched, but you are right," Harry took a deep calming breath, but still his voice sounded far too squeaky, even for his own comfort, when he continued, "I'm still alive!"

"So I either have some hidden powers even I don't know about, or you'd be able to do the same," Harry concluded after another deep breath.

"I don't really have a choice, do I," Malfoy sneered weakly.

"I had hoped you wouldn't see it like that, but you're right, you don't." Harry admitted, "Though I have only a very small part in taking the choice from you. You must be aware by now that Voldemort wants you to fail? He couldn't kill Dumbledore himself so far." Malfoy stared glumly ahead.

"Yeah, what difference does it make though. I feel like a quaffle, tossed from one player to the next."

"I don't want to force anything on you, but I can't let you commit murder," Harry said, "Right now you're in a situation very much like my own. I've never asked Voldemort to obsess over me, you know. At first fighting him seemed the best defence. I don't like this any more than you do. I'd rather not fight at all." Draco stared at Harry as if suddenly seeing him in a new light, like he was somebody he had never met before.

"You don't actually want to fight him?" "If I had a choice, I'd be a carefree teenager, obsessing over normal teenage stuff," Harry said. "You always seemed so ... I don't know ... determined?" Malfoy said.

"Well, there's no use doing this halfway. I decided to give everything, so I will actually survive this war, although I have only made up my mind about it this summer. Before that, I've been mostly just lucky," Harry shrugged. "So what are your plans?" Harry pressed on.

"As if I'd tell you my plans!"

"You might as well," Harry said, "I already know what you're doing, just not exactly how. You don't think I'll sit back and let that happen, right? So what is to stop me from dragging you in front of Dumbledore right now? You don't even have a wand."

Malfoy paled. He looked defeated, but somehow having his choice made for him seemed to have removed a weight from his shoulders. Maybe he felt as if from that point on he could no longer blame himself, if everything went wrong.

"You're blackmailing me?" Malfoy asked in a last act of defiance.

"Malfoy, what would you do, if you were in my place?" Harry asked, "You might as well make the best of it. Together we will come up with a workable plan."

"I don't want to die!" Malfoy stated.

"Staying with Voldemort will more likely get you killed, even if you, against all odds, succeed in killing Dumbledore. Why would you think placing yourself willingly at Voldemort's mercy a good survival strategy?!"

"I'm doomed," Malfoy gulped.

"Yeah, if you don't act, you might as well be," Harry stated, "but if you work hard to thwart his plans..."

"... my mother's blood will be on my hands," Malfoy finished for him.

"Not, if we hide her in a safe place," Harry suggested."Do you even have a safe place?" Malfoy snorted, "Besides who knows how long this war will take. She might have to stay in hiding for decades!"

"I'm working on a safe place and for all of our sakes. We'll just have to work really hard to finish this as soon as possible, right?" Harry said and shuddered at the thought that he might actually spend decades fighting this bloody war.

"But, the bigger question is, would your mother be willing to go into hiding? Will she stand by your decision to work against Voldemort?" Harry asked. What if Narcissa Malfoy put misguided Pureblood ideals before her son?

"I guess so," Malfoy hugged himself, discarding the leftover wrappings of his cold pureblood exterior. "But you don't have a safe place now. What is mother supposed to do until then? Immediately when it gets out that I have switched sides, mother will be fair game for any Death Eater!" Harry then knew that Malfoy had already made up his mind. He would ally himself with Harry, not quite willingly and mostly out of fear, but it was a start at least.

"It would be best to hold him off for as long as possible anyway," Harry mused, "Like that we might delay him just a bit and we have more time to plot and set our own plans into motion."

The two boys sat there and after a while, when Malfoy had not moved at all and still seemed rather frozen to the spot, Harry decided to direct the converation to where he wanted it to go.

"So how were you going about your task? Did you have any specific orders on how to do it?" he asked.

"No, the outcome is the important thing," Malfoy said.

"Hm," Harry said, "So what kind of plans have you been working on so far?"

"I figured, I couldn't do this alone," Malfoy mumbled, "So I decided to create a way to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts." He stared fearfully at Harry, as if still expecting to be hexed any moment but, Harry only waited patiently for him to continue.

"I took the vanishing cabinet, where Montague was stuck last year. The other is located at Borgin & Burkes in Knockturn Alley. But the one here is defect. I've spent hours trying to fix it."

Harry shuddered. Malfoy might have actually succeeded in bringing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, a school with hundreds of more or less defenceless children. Then Harry retreated inside his head to ponder the situation for some time. Malfoy was really resourceful, even when threatened into something, but how cunning would he get, if he fully dedicated himself to a cause he believed in?

They had been silent for a while, each in a world of their own, hidden deep inside their minds. Harry once again felt overwhelmed by all the things that needed to be done. His list had just gotten even longer. Now he had to come up with a plan to help Malfoy and take some time to support him as well. He could not leave him all alone with his problems.

Malfoy had slouched back against his armchair, looking frail. Harry thought it scary to see a former rival, one he had always considered equal in power and wits, so utterly helpless. He shivered from a cold that seemed to come from within, as due to Dobby's permanent heating charm, the chamber was quite comfortably tempered by now.

"Will you win?" he asked softly.To Harry this question was an unsettling sign of defeat, especially coming from Malfoy, who had never been caught up in any of the Chosen One myth. But how was Harry supposed to answer that? He certainly hoped so, but while he felt like assuring Malfoy, he would not hand out empty promises of victory. He was only a kid himself. Like Malfoy he was only a kid with a task larger than himself, much too heavy to carry all by himself.

"We have to!" Harry whispered hoarsely.They locked gazes. Malfoy still looked defeated, so Harry tried to dig up some courage for the both of them.

"It won't be easy or glorious or any such crap," Harry gulped, "but I have found that actions to achieving one's ends have a calming effect, far better than passively waiting for one's doom, dreading for the things to come."Malfoy took a sharp breath, lifting his head defiantly."Anyway, I can't do it all alone and I can't see why I should anyway," Harry said, "I need all the help I can get and you can help a lot. Just like you, I'm only a teenager with a mass murder after me. Incidentally, we have the same mad man after us. We can help each other."

"How?"

"You have a lot of influence," Harry offered, "I don't have a chance to defeat him solely on the battlefield. I will have to become somewhat of a politician," Harry tasted that word in his mouth. After Umbridge he had absolutely no respect for politicians left, but then again this might actually increase his chances to become a successful one himself.

Malfoy nodded slowly, before he asked, "How have you survived so far?"

"Luck, loyalty, love," Malfoy raised an incredulous eyebrow and Harry was relieved to see some of his usual mannerisms return.

"Loyalty from friends, love from my mother and for those close to me. My mother's sacrifice gave me a blood protection so he couldn't touch me. But Voldemort was resurrected with my blood, so it's a moot point now. Thinking of loved ones drove him from my mind. But again, its mostly been pure , dumb luck," Harry elaborated, "Nothing so extravagant that only no one else could have done it, for the most part," he shrugged.

"Do you have a plan?" Malfoy asked shakily.

"Lots and lots of plans and not enough time to act on them," Harry sighed, "The most important thing is to cut down his support base. Without his Death Eaters he is only one ingenious mad man with a cult status much larger than himself."

"Everybody is afraid!"

"My point exactly. Quite a few would leave, were they given a viable option."

Malfoy nodded, then his face lit up, a steely glint appearing in his eyes. He was going to be doing what he was brought up to do, scheming and manipulating people to his advantage. He had been taught by one of the best – Lucius Malfoy was a master in the art of manipulation and scheming. For now he remained silent though, a thoughtful frown on his forehead.

"We'll also have to built up people's defences as well as our own," Harry said, "People are petrified by the mere sight of Death Eaters. The Death Eaters don't even need to do all that much. What would happen, if everybody suddenly started to fight back, instead of waiting to be rescued or slaughtered?

I mean, I could do it. A bunch of school children were able to put up a fight against several Death Eaters and lived to tell the tale! Adults should be even more capable, but no - they cover and quiver in fear, waiting for a kid to solve their problems – spineless worms, the lot of them!" Harry raved. A smirk spread slowly across Malfoy's face and Harry gave him a mock glare.

"What?"

"I had wondered when I'd see you explode again. It's been so long." Harry smiled ruefully. He was only relieved that Malfoy seemed no longer afraid of him.

"About your mother – we'll have to talk to her soon – as soon as I have made arrangements for a safe place." Malfoy nodded.

"Okay."

Harry stared at the ceiling, "Where is the vanishing cabinet anyway?"

"Room of Requirement," Malfoy appeared slightly pink faced, having to admit that he had even stolen Harry's former secret meeting place from him. Harry just gave him a pointed look.


	16. Chapter 16

**A big thank you to my beta HP Addicts Anonymous! Thanks to all those who have commented on my story so far! The next two chapters are almost ready and should be up soon. Please review!**

**Chapter 16**

Prophesizing a glorious career for Tom Riddle as Minister for Magic" – in exchange for a generous supply of pineapple candy – was just like Slughorn. Harry was not surprised at all, as he had suspected Slughorn's attitude to have been like that, when he had followed Dumbledore into the pensieve to view the real memory.

Harry watched as the other students left the office and Tom asked his question.

"Sir I wondered what you know about ... about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn scrutinized Tom slyly, lightly caressing the stem of his wineglass in an almost sensual manner.

"Defence against the Dark Arts, is it?"

The knowing gleam in his eyes however gave away that he did not believe his own words. Slughorn knew perfectly well that they were not discussing school work.

"Not exactly, sir," said Tom, "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No... well you'd be hard pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom." Harry watched Tom very closely. His expression was a little too blank and only barely concealed his smirk.

"That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," Slughorn voiced delicately, as if complimenting a very fine vintage. In his oily voice swung a reverence, awed and frightened at once, with an underlying respect that resembled Snape's silky tones, when talking about the Dark Arts.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you – sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously – I just knew, if anyone could tell me, you could – so I just thought I'd ask-"

Harry could not help but admire Tom's cunning, his ability to wheedle the information out of Slughorn, the casualness, carefully dosed with personal flattery, although there was obviously nothing casual about the question. Tom clearly had patiently laid down the base work for a long time, built up and nursed his relationship with Slughorn for this very moment.

"Well," said Slughorn hesitantly, apparently torn between showing off his knowledge and keeping what he knew about the matter secret, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Tom with barely restrained excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then even if one's body is attacked and destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But, of course, existence in such a form..."

Slughorn gave off a small shudder. Apparently, the existence as a bodiless spirit seemed too high a price to pay for immortality. Harry for his part was reminded of how Voldemort had described his state of being to his Death Eaters at the graveyard almost two years ago.

"...ripped from my body, ... less than a spirit, ... but still alive." It made sense now, as it fit perfectly with what Slughorn had described happened to one who had created a Horcrux. !

"... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable!" Slughorn shuddered again. Tom however looked eager; he could no longer hide his excitement. Apparently, he had not yet mastered to shield his mind, for his delight was leaking out even to the less observant.

"How do you split your soul?"

Well," said Slughorn, shifting uneasily in his overstuffed armchair, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil – the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage, he would encase the torn portion -"

"Encase? But how?" Tom's voice was rushed now, quivering with impatience and greed.

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head, as if attempting to shake off disturbing thoughts, encasing him in a trance like haze, "Do I look like I have tried it – do I look like a murderer?"

"No, sir, of course not," Tom hurried to say, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend,"

"No offense, not at all, not at all," Slughorn said with a gruff fondness, "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things ... wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic ..." It was obvious that Slughorn included Tom Riddle and himself as well into that category of wizards. While even to him a ripped soul seemed to be too much of a sacrifice to achieve the common dream of immortality, Harry was almost certain that Slughorn was not that squeamish about the use of the Dark Arts in general. Slughorn placed great importance on his own comfort, so he would draw the line at least when it came to self mutilation. Harry already prepared himself for another talk with the slimy slug, as he evidently was an invaluable source of information, even if a repulsive one.

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "What I don't understand, though – just out of curiosity – I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces? For instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven -?

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case ... bad enough to divide the soul ... but to rip it into seven pieces ..."

Harry felt sick to the stomach. A Horcrux promised immortality, but only in exchange for self-abandonment; one had to part with a part of one's soul, one's very essence of being. This was an act of violence against oneself, self mutilation of it's highest degree. No one with any self respect or sense of self would even consider parting with part of his soul, that Harry was very certain of. To create seven Horcruxes was an unfathomable sacrilege against oneself, more so even than against those he killed, as far as Harry was concerned.

There had been many mass murderers throughout history and the notion that Voldemort had committed murders had not been news to Harry, nor did he find it unsettling any longer. However, as far as he knew, none of those infamous mass murderers had defiled his own soul, by purposefully ripping it apart.

What kind of person was capable of committing a crime such as this against himself?! What state of mind did one have to be in to be capable of such an act?

Only someone with an already anguished soul, filled with self hate would be able to overcome the hurdle of instinctive self preservation. What had happened to turn Tom Riddle into a being without any sense of personal integrity?

Harry felt a dull ache in his chest, which he dully noted to be compassion for Tom Riddle, the boy who had had such a miserable existence when he was Harry's age that he had succeeded to create a Horcurx or even multiple ones.

In way the creation of even one Horcrux was an even worse crime against oneself than suicide. Tom had set out to purposefully tear apart his essence of being, while even those who committed suicide died as themselves.

If only stopped to think about it for a moment, one forcibly came to the conclusion that Tom Riddle had indeed loathed himself. He had hated himself so much that he had even changed his name.

Lord Voldemort was an anagram. The letters of Tom Marvolo Riddle shifted around to create I am Lord Voldemort. How very fitting. By creating his Horcruxes Tom Riddle had undergone a metamorphoses. No piece of his soul had been lost. Instead it had been ripped apart, rearranged and encased in objects. At the same time Tom ceased to exist and transformed into another being made of the same pieces. The birth name had been but a name to Tom, apparently, while Lord Voldemort was something he identified with - I am Lord Voldemort.

Tom must have spent a lot of time on creating an anagram that fitted his needs, an act that seemed surprisingly child like for someone with so horrifying ambitions.

The rest of the memory Harry passed in a daze and by the end of it Harry once again returned to Dumbledore's office.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out to make himself immortal."

Harry nodded slowly, still in a daze, feeling slightly sick by all the memory had revealed.

"So this is how he has survived without a body." he mumbled, not looking up to look at Dumbledore, whose eyes were sure to be twinkling, which would be more than Harry could bear at that moment. Finally, after several minutes of trying to compose himself and only half way succeeding, he straightened his posture.

"So what do you reckon, how many Horcruxes are there?" Harry asked then, his gaze attentively fixed on Dumbledore's face, if not his eyes.

"We cannot know for sure," Dumbledore began, "One you already have destroyed." Harry frowned. All of his years at Hogwarts had involved Voldemort one way or another. However only once had he actually destroyed an object.

"The diary," Harry mumbled tonelessly. The diary had had the memories of Tom Riddle. It was only one step further to guess that it had also held part of his soul.

"Very good!" Dumbledore exclaimed delightfully. Obviously, he had no idea of the dark clouds storming through Harry's mind.

"So how many others are there? Do you know what they are?" Harry asked.

"You remember his tendency to collect trophies. Therefore, I believe that he would prefer to encase the pieces of his soul into objects that, in themselves have a certain grandeur."

Harry pondered that idea. While Voldemort obviously loathed himself, he also considered himself special. Therefore, negligible objects as Horcruxes were ruled out, even though using old tins and litter would have been the smarter thing to do, as those objects would be almost impossible to find.

"I have therefore traveled back through Voldemort's past to see if I can find evidence that such artefacts have disappeared around him," Dumbledore continued, "I suggest that we will discuss possible Horcruxes in our next meeting when you have had time to process the information."

This time Harry did not protest. His head was buzzing with the new, disturbing information and he felt a headache approaching at a rapid pace.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks again for your reviews. **

**It might have seemed like the last chapter was very close to canon and in fact I was trying very hard to keep within the boundary set by HBP as far as the known facts are concerned. What is different though is Harry's perception of that facts. He concentrates on very different aspects. Where HBP (being a children's book a detailed discussion about soul ripping, self mutilation etc. would go too far, I guess, but this story is rated M for a reason, as I will expand on those ideas.) glossed over the requirements to be able to make a Horcrux, I concentrated Harry's focus on that. I still think that I've kept well within the possibilities of canon, which was the point, as it was my way to slowly ease into my theory about Horcruxes.  
**

**The next chapter is already being betaed and should be up at the beginning of next week. Thanks again to my beta! **

**Chapter 17**

On Tuesday at breakfast Neville pushed his copy of the Daily Prophet to Harry, a pleased smile on his lips. Harry did not have to leaf through the paper, as the headline on the front page immediately sprang into his eyes.  
**  
**_**Under secretary Umbridge temporarily**__** released from office**_

Harry returned Neville's smile gleefully."Huh, that was quick," he commented and started reading. Just as Harry's lawyer had predicted, Umbridge had been suspended from office - pending further notice. It had not taken long after the lawyer had turned in the papers of Harry's claim to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. So far all had gone as well as he could have hoped.

Harry looked up to see the reaction of his newly acquired Slytherin allies. Zabini had raised both eyebrows and gave a small nod of what seemed to be approval. Malfoy's expression was carefully blank, giving nothing away, which was probably all for the better. Malfoy as a former member of the Inquisitional Squad could not be seen pleased with the news. It would too easily give away that not all things were as they seemed on the surface and people might get suspicious. Once anybody seriously started to snoop around, Malfoy's cover was bound to blow.

Harry could not even tell for sure, whether Malfoy actually was pleased that Umbridge would now be held accountable for her actions at Hogwarts; after all Malfoy had actively supported her at the time. He might feel some left over resentment over the fact that Harry once again came out on top.

Harry's gaze rested on Daphne Greengrass for a couple of moments. She sat extremely straight on the bench across from Zabini, gracefully cutting her food in small pieces, opening her mouth only slightly to insert the fork into her mouth, engaging Zabini into a quiet conversation in between bites. Then she looked up at Harry to give him a small nod with only the hint of a smile. Harry inclined his head and gave her a smile in return.

At the other house tables he saw but happy faces, several of them grinning up to him. At the Hufflepuff table several from the younger years were doing small victory dances, while still remaining seated. Harry mischievously grinned back and dug into his breakfast.

Ron's expression was almost comical. He appeared torn between glee that Umbridge was finally out off office and scorn that Harry had once again made the front page, got his way, or whatever it was that actually bothered him.

Then the owls arrived and two of them made their way to Harry simultaneously. One of them Harry recognized as Lawyer Greengrass' owl, while the other he had never seen before, although it had a pompous air about it that reminded him very strongly of Percy. Harry freed the owls of their letters and offered them pieces of bacon. His lawyer's owl graciously accepted with a nip to his finger in thanks. The other owl, however, stuck her beak in the air, as if accepting food was beneath her. Harry chuckled and sent both owls off for the time being.

His lawyer informed him that he had sent the formal charges to the Department of law enforcement had been sent on Friday night. Harry also should expect the ministry to contact him for an unofficial meeting. Lawyer Greengrass advised Harry to take a witness to the actual meeting. The second owl turned out to be from Minister Scrimgour himself.  
_  
__Mr Potter, _

_I am aware that your relationship with the ministry has been very strained recently, not least due to former Under Secretary Umbridge's actions. I hope, we can come to an understanding and form a productive working relationship._  
_  
I would like to invite you for a private talk, concerning your charges against former Under Secretary Umbridge and general matters in regards to the upcoming war. Let me up front express my sincere apologies for the wrong done to you by a ministry official. I have taken the liberty to book a private room at the "Le Fey" in Diagon Alley on Friday at seven o'clock. Please let me know, whether this is convenient to you. _

_Sincerely _

_Rufus A. Srimgour, Minister of Magic_

Harry smirked and offered the letter to his friends to read. Ginny's eyes widened.

"Le Fey? He's really trying to suck up to you, isn't he."

"Gran has been there a couple of times to meet with friends. She says it's an amazing atmosphere, the service is superb and the food delicious," Neville offered.

Harry pondered on who to take with him as witness. It had to be an adult regarded highly in wizarding society and not too close to Dumbledore. He would have liked to take Remus with him but if he needed to call upon him as a witness to the public later on, his werewolf status would severely weaken his credibility.

"Do you think your Grandmother would accompany me to the meeting?" Harry asked looking quizzically at Neville.

"I guess so," Neville nodded emphatically, "You should owl her to explain the situation."

"I will do that," Harry smiled. Augusta Longbottom seemed like a good choice. She was firmly on the light side but independent from Dumbledore and the ministry. She had always supported him, believed in him and everybody who had ever seen her knew that she was not easily intimidated. According to Neville she was also very open minded in regards to muggleborns and had been very fond of Harry's mother. Maybe a little of that fondness had been transferred to her son as well.

Of course, Harry could have simply asked his lawyer to join the meeting but he felt that it would increase the credibility of his witness, if she was not employed by him. Also working with different high up Purebloods gave him a stronger footing on the political ground, as it showed off his growing support base.

"You will need dress robes," Ginny commented. Harry nodded, well aware that he had nothing adequate for the occasion, for he had definitely out grown his dress robes from fourth year.

"I'll owl Madam Malkin. She should still have my measurements from my last order."

Harry looked up at the head table, finding himself under the scrutiny of Dumbledore as well as Snape's. Snape stared penetratingly at him, the usual sneer gracing his features, his expression otherwise blank. Dumbledore's eyes gave off their usual twinkle, although he looked quite grave otherwise. Professor McGonagall gave him a pleased smile and Flitwick beamed brightly at him.

Harry and his group of friends had scheduled their meeting with Zabini and Greengrass for eight o'clock that evening in a classroom near the statute of Barnaby the Barmy. Harry, Neville, Ginny and Hermione arrived a little earlier under the cover of a notice me not charm. When Daphne and Blaise arrived Harry greeted them politely to make them aware of his presence, warded the room with his usual thoroughness and then he and his friends lifted the charms and offered their hands to shake. Daphne Greengrass smiled warmly at Ginny and Neville.

"Hello Miss Greengrass," Neville smiled shyly at her and Ginny politely returned her greeting.

"Well, make yourselves comfortable," Harry indicated to the seats. "It's great you have decided to come along," Harry smiled at Zabini's friend.

"Thank you for making me feel welcomed," she responded in kind.

"So you've been making the front page once again," Zabini smirked at Harry and sat down gracefully in a chair next to Ginny.

"Well Umbridge had it coming," Ginny said.

"Indeed," Zabini smirked.

"It should give me some leeway in my dealings with the ministry," Harry smirked back.

"So will you let us in on your plans?" Zabini asked.

"On Friday I'm having a meeting with the minister," Harry said, "I hope, I can persuade him to see things a little more my way. Hopefully, I can convince him to make a thorough ministry clean up after that Umbridge fiasco. I'll see, if I can introduce him to my ideas about a muggleborn tutoring program and easing of restrictions against so called dark magical creatures. Since it was mainly Umbridge pushing for those restrictions in the first place, it shouldn't be too hard to get somewhere right now," Harry explained.

"How does it serve our interests in this war to stand up for the rights of magical creatures?" Zabini asked with a raised eyebrow."It's the right thing to do. It isn't always about serving one's own interests!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. Zabini's and Greengrass' expressions turned blank.

"While I agree that it is the right thing to do, it does serve our interests in the war effort," Harry disagreed, "Right now they can't live their lives under acceptable conditions within our society. They have almost no other options but Voldemort and why shouldn't they join him? They are treated nowhere near equal members of our society."

"I see your point," Daphne stated calmly, "though I can't say I feel exactly comfortable in the company of werewolves." Hermione appeared ready for a passionate lecture in defence of werewolves and magical creatures in general, but Neville butted quickly in.

"They're only dangerous once a month and under wolfsbane potion not even then."

"I plan to give out wolfsbane potion freely to any werewolf who is willing to take an oath to never attack a human while transformed, other than in self defence," Harry tried to soothe her fears.

"I like your idea," Greengrass smiled kindly, "How are you going to provide that much of the potion. There are very few able to brew it and really expensive to purchase." She frowned. "Do you even have even an idea how many werewolves there are?"

"Only one percent of wizards in the UK actually suffer from lycanthropy," Hermione piped up, "It should be possible."

"I guess my family could provide most of the ingredients through our business contacts. With such a large order you should be able to bargain the price down quite nicely," Zabini pinched his nose.

"My family could provide the premises to store the ingredients and brew the potion," Daphne offered.

"That still leaves the question of who will actually brew the potions. With such a large order we will need an army of potions masters," Hermione interjected.

"Harry will you really have enough funds for that? It should be a long term project after all," Ginny asked with huge eyes.

"I don't know, but I plan to invest the money from the Black account into that project," Harry said.

"No amount of money lasts long, if you don't get any money back in," Zabini said, "You should not give the potion out for free for example, just lower the price so that it is affordable for everybody," Zabini started to explain basic business strategies to Harry. "That way your funds will last much longer."

"Right," Harry nodded slowly, glad to have somebody around who actually understood something about finances.

"Ideally this should become a self running business, even surviving you, with investment and income balanced out. You still need to find a source for that extra money."

"So who will brew the potions?" Ginny asked.

"I might ask Slughorn, if he has any idea. He might be able to help as well, or maybe he could find a short cut for the brewing?" Harry suggested. Ginny snorted and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "That prick" and Hermione gave her a disapproving glare while Zabini raised an eyebrow in question.

"We've recently had a slight disagreement but I could convince him that it is in his best interest to help me." Harry said curtly. He was not about to go into that, at least not now. Zabini smirked.

"Anyway, a shortcut might lower the costs quite remarkably in the long run," he then concluded and Harry thought that Zabini might just be a great financial adviser. Harry had slowly come to realize that the war was a very costly affair, drawing heavily on his monetary resources.

"Do you think you can think up a way to make money to spent on our projects – or better even find a way to decrease the funds of the other side? They might have difficulties bribing people for seemingly little favours, if there is no money at all." Harry suggested.

"I will think about it," Zabini promised with a smirk, obviously quite pleased that he really got a task in a field he was well versed in, just like Harry had indicated at their initial meeting.

"You have mentioned training in defence in our last meeting?" Zabini then said.

"Uh Yeah," Harry said, "about that – I would like to include physical training as well." he paused, dreading the outburst that was sure to follow. Daphne and Zabini sneered disbelievingly at Harry, Neville faintly shook his head and even Hermione looked mightily disgruntled, while Ginny looked weary but curious.

"I have recently analysed the Death Eaters' weaknesses. While they know many nasty spells and have much more experience than we have, they are physically weak, even the young ones. No offence, but the only sport wizards engage in is Quidditch and that requires hardly any muscles or endurance at all. Dodging however does. It is always better to avoid a curse completely than hiding behind a shield that might break. Besides shields drain you magically. If we can out run and dodge Death Eaters without tiring too much this would already be a huge advantage and while they would be magically exhausted we would still be strong in that respect."

"Getting physical!" exclaimed Zabini disbelievingly, "I'm a wizard."

"This is war! I for my part will do everything to survive!" Ginny said decisively. "If muggles can do physical training, we can do so as well."

"First and foremost we are humans. Magic is just an additional ability. Just because we can use magic, doesn't mean we have to disregard the abilities of our bodies. Besides magic needs a healthy body. Physical training improves our physical health, so it might even boost our magical resources," Harry argued.

"Oh, this will be so hard! I've always hated sports at primary school" Hermione groaned, "Unfortunately your reasoning is sound."

"I'm in," Neville said with a determined look on his face.

"You believe that physical training will increase our magical abilities?" Zabini asked dubiously.

"I'll give it a try," Greengrass said.

"Well, none of you are used to any kind of physical activity. So at first it will be extra hard. You will be sore as you built up muscles, but after three weeks of constant training you should be used to it. Try for three weeks and then you can make up your mind, whether or not this is of any use to you."

"Where will we do the training?" Daphne asked.

"I would prefer to do this undetected. We can't be seen running on the grounds." Harry said thoughtfully. He had dreaded this moment ever since. How would Hermione and Ginny react to the revelation that Harry had been to the Chamber of Secrets? He took a deep breath.

"I think the best place to do so would be the Chamber of Secrets." Upon seeing Ginny's ashen face, he felt compelled to reassure her. "I have been down there, renewing the place. It is nowhere near as gloomy as in your first year. The place is down right marvellous."

"You've been to the Chamber of Secrets alone?!" Hermione shrieked, "It could be dangerous!"

"I haven't been alone! I've been with Dobby! I don't think I could have chosen a more powerful protector." Greengrass looked awed and Zabini looked downright excited of the prospect of visiting Slytherin's secret chamber.

"You should take a teacher there." Hermione opined bossily.

"You will not inform a teacher," came the outraged exclamation from Neville, Zabini and Greengrass.

"But...," Hermione said.

"Hermione, use your head," Ginny snapped impatiently, "The chamber is the perfect secret meeting place, secure against intrusion."

"But aren't you of all people afraid of returning there?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I'll live! Harry says it's safe and I trust him," Ginny snapped.Thus they decided to meet on Saturday after breakfast for their first training session in Myrtle's bathroom. Then they returned respectively to the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18  
**

**  
**Harry moodily threw the ancient tome onto the shining black coffee table and jumped up from the couch in the Chamber of Secrets.

He was working on his homework for Snape, but he had made no progress whatsoever in figuring out a distinction between dark and light spells. Having found out that Voldemort had created Horcruxes had only further spurned him on to get an understanding of the workings behind the Dark Arts; after all how could he fight against something he was so utterly clueless about. What was the concept behind the Dark Arts?

He had read through most of the books in the restricted section in the library. They had plenty of information about nasty dark curses, potions and jinxes, gruesome enough to scare him for life, but Harry felt that he had entirely missed the crux of the matter. As far as he could see there was no common trait applying to all matters, labelled dark. Harry had researched for two weeks now and he still was no closer to solving the puzzle. Thus Harry was highly frustrated.

"I just don't get it!" he exclaimed. Next to him Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at his antics. Harry had invited Malfoy to spent the evening in the chamber and his still somewhat reluctant ally had accepted, obviously grateful for a reprieve, relieved to be able to relax his mask for a couple of hours. Harry had decided to give Malfoy some space and had used his stay in the chamber to go through his books from Knockturn Alley until now. Malfoy had lounged on the other end of the couch, his eyes closed for most of the time. Now he sat up, looking at Harry expectantly.

"What it is that you don't understand?"

"Is there even a distinction between light and dark spells?" Harry asked, his head in his hands. Who better to ask than Malfoy after all?

"There is, "Malfoy said.

"So what is it? Do those spells require more power?" Harry hazarded a guess.

"The Dark Arts are not more difficult to perform than light spells as far as magic is concerned."

"What is the difference then?""Light spells can create, dark spells only and always destroy. "

"But ... There are light spells that destroy as well. What is the difference between a well placed light cutting spell and the killing curse or a dark cutting spell. The result would be the same. I would still have murdered, destroyed," Harry said. He felt like the answer was hidden behind an impenetrable wall just in front of him.

"In essence the Dark Arts are chaos. They are unlimited in their forms, as there are unlimited possibilities of how to destroy something. Therefore, the Dark Arts are far more imprecise than light magic. The ways to give something a new form, an order are very limited. You might say that light spells put things in order, in a new order, maybe, but an order, nonetheless. A dark spell only destroys, leaving chaos. Dark spells cannot create, give a new order," Malfoy tried to explain.

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"The difference about the Dark Arts is the intent."

"I know!" exclaimed Harry hotly, "But what does it actually mean? So I have to really want it to happen. Big deal! The same goes for a light curse, or my focus would fail. That I need to hate?" Malfoy looked at him.

"You are so naive sometimes. Still a true innocent. You have to revel in the pain and breath in the death." Harry still stared cluelessly at him.

"Why do you think the Dark Lord's followers are called Death Eaters? "Malfoy shook his head.

"Listen" he then said, as Harry only shrugged.

"My Dear Dark Arts,  
I give myself to you, with passion.  
Let me take joy in others' pain and death,  
for pain I cause, shall become my pleasure,  
my only pleasure.  
and killing shall fill me with life,  
till only others' death can give me life.  
I shall lose myself in your embrace,  
You are to be my life and only lover.  
You are addictive like the strongest drug,  
you dampen my senses with the height of pleasure,  
till it is the only thing that makes me feel.  
Killing gives me life,  
I no longer desire food but only death,  
till death is the only thing  
that allows me to hang on to life.  
You can only destroy and always take.  
I take the life of another for myself,  
though every time I give myself away  
You eat my soul,  
till I am no more,  
but a soulless servant to the Arts  
that were meant to serve my ends.  
You always destroy  
and always take  
more than you give,  
but you give so much."

Malfoy looked steadily and knowingly at Harry, who gulped. He had goose bumps all over from the seductive purr of the morbid poem that seemed like a caress to all of his senses, while it talked about death and pain and pleasure.

His blood was thumping far too loudly and almost painfully in his veins, seemingly thicker and stickier than usual.

Malfoy only stared ahead, the hint of a knowing smirk on his lips, while he sat rigidly on the couch, hands on his knees. He had not moved at all.

Harry stared at him. His breath hitched as Malfoy's tongue darted out to the corner of his mouth to moisten his lips. Impulsively, Harry tackled him, forcefully crushing his mouth against Malfoy's, intent on devouring him. Malfoy snaked his arms around Harry's neck, bringing him closer. Harry pressed him into the couch, snatched Malfoy's arms from around his neck and pinned them above his head to the couch. Malfoy stared up at him, wide eyed, breathing in small barely controlled pants.

Harry pressed down on him even more and greedily attached his mouth to Malfoy's neck; he sucked and licked and bit, leaving brightly coloured marks, then freed one arm from its task of pinning Malfoy down to fumble with the silver clasp of Malfoy's robe. The silken button up had far too many tiny buttons too dispose of the clothing in an appropriately hasty manner; so Harry gave up half way down and began to explore Malfoy's torso with his lips and teeth.

Malfoy arched into the touch. His torso was almost white as if it had never been exposed to the sun at all, smooth and unblemished without a mole or even a tiny freckle, like polished white marble, emphasized by the dark colours the study was kept in.

"Potter," Malfoy moaned and again they locked gazes, permitting an undisguised view on themselves, their insecurities, fears and shortcomings. There was no shame in their sudden openness, which was unmatched by their state of undress. But then not even being completely naked would have physically matched their emotional intimacy at that point.

There, pinned under Harry, lay Malfoy, sculptured white marble and yet so far from perfect, fragile and bony, but yet eager and willing and Harry's to take. The very concept was achingly exciting and was obviously equally exciting to Malfoy, as his laboured breathing, his glassy eyes with dilated pupils, turning them almost completely black and lastly the blunt hardness boring into his stomach gave away.

Possessively, Harry sucked on Malfoy's lips, while fisting his almost white hair, relishing the feel of Malfoy's cock pressed against his. He moved and again Malfoy met his movements. Then Harry let his hand travel to said cock, rubbing and caressing.

Harry sat up, his hand lingering on the fastenings of Malfoy's robe, his gaze swept questioningly to Malfoy's face, who in turn only nodded frantically.

"Salazar yes!"

Harry opened the clasp and pushed the heavy fabrics aside, revealing a pair of dark grey silk boxer shorts, or the wizarding version thereof. Instead of an elastic a charm represented by a small stitching held the garment together Harry noticed. The wizarding world did not make use of elastics he knew, although he had never pondered the far reaching consequences that might have on something as mundane as underwear. He discarded his musings quickly, as he had far better things to occupy himself with.

He enjoyed the warmth that swept through the silk, Malfoy's moans as he arched into Harry's touch.

"Undress me, " Harry panted and Malfoy sat up to open the clasp of Harry's robe, then he efficiently unbuttoned Harry's button up and before long Harry was naked. They stared at each other, panting, until Harry tackled him again, moving his hands under the only remaining clothing that covered the whiteness of Malfoy's skin and finally getting rid of the garment.

"You feel good," Harry whispered and nipped on Malfoy's earlobe. Again, he pinned Malfoy down, only this time there was no offending fabric as they rubbed against each other.

Then Harry crawled up and straddled Malfoy's chest.

Malfoy gave off a low moan before he parted his lips, stuck out his tongue. A cross between a growl and a hiss escaped Harry, as he slowly pushed himself further into Malfoy's mouth. The damp warmth, the caress of Malfoy's tongue felt incredible. Malfoy was laying under him, restrained by Harry's legs as Harry slowly, carefully pushed in and out.

The concept of technically having Malfoy at his mercy was mind blowingly erotic, if not all that new. Since Malfoy had allied himself with Harry, he had been virtually at Harry's mercy, dependant on Harry's good will, on his willingness to help him out.

The image of Malfoy in between his legs, red blotches of arousal on his checks struck Harry as an image of astonishing beauty; he would not last very long, if they were to go on like that for much longer and he wanted this to go on forever, or at least a little longer, stretch this moment of, for once, being in control. He did not want to give up that control yet.

Therefore, Harry crawled down in between Malfoy's legs along his flushed and sweaty torso till he was on eye level with his bright red prick. He pressed Malfoy's hips to the couch and nuzzled his nose in the blond curls, breathing in the musky scent. He darted out his tongue teasingly, only in part copying Malfoy's earlier moves, as he remained firmly in control, intent on making Malfoy lose his, making him scream Harry's name. The thought was so much of a turn on. Malfoy made a gurgling sound and Harry started bobbing his head up and down, while still keeping Malfoy pressed down to prevent him from moving his hips.

Harry freed one hand to nudge Malfoy's legs further apart and began to explore his balls and then letting his fingers wander to the creek of his arse, looking questioningly at Malfoy for permission.

"Salazar yes!" Malfoy slurred as if drunk on pleasure. That was enough encouragement for Harry and he plunged in a finger. Malfoy was babbling and moaning in such an inhibited way, Harry would have never believed him capable of, from the way he usually presented himself in public.

A thick tangy scent penetrated Harry's nose; too heavy and spicy, intimate and so arousing. Finally Harry removed his fingers, rolled Malfoy over with his face to the back of the couch and moved behind him, his hand on Malfoy's hip to keep him in place, while he pressed him close. Harry pushed forward and Malfoy, though barely able to move, pushed back. Harry was in. It felt so incredibly good, almost unbearably so. Malfoy had stiffened slightly, Harry bit his earlobe.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice harsh from the restraint of keeping still and then he alternatingly bit and licked the already thoroughly snogged neck, blowing over the red spots. Finally Malfoy relaxed and Harry began to move at a hard and fast pace, eliciting muffled screams and moans from Malfoy, whose face was pressed against the back of the couch. Finally Harry came with a shout and a violent shudder.

"Fuck Malfoy!" He slipped out and reached for Malfoy's cock, moving his hand rapidly up and down till Malfoy's cock spurted a fountain of sticky hot liquid over the couch in Slytherin's study.

"Salazar! Potter!," he exclaimed.

"What was that poem? " Harry panted when he was able to breath and think again.

"Bellatrix Lestrange wrote it as a young woman, shortly after her marriage, I think," Malfoy said, still sprawled halfway underneath Harry on the couch.

Harry paled. He had been turned on by a poem, written by the mad woman who had killed Sirius. He did not doubt that she was capable of writing something so sinister, but he would never have guessed that she could write something so oddly sensual. Bellatrix Lestrange was a true monster, as he had known all along. Much more troubling him was what effect the poem had had on himself. He was disgusted with himself that he could even make out the sensuality in something so cruel.

"Bellatrix Lestrange? She wrote that?" Harry exclaimed. He no longer knew what to think.

"Well, what do you expect of the Dark Lord's mistress," Malfoy retorted, seemingly casual. His back was still turned to Harry but the tensing muscles gave away that he was not at ease with that topic and most likely regretted having even said as much.

"His mistress? But isn't she married?" Harry was confused.

"And your point is? Her husband wouldn't stand up to defend her dubious honour to the Dark Lord, would he now?" Malfoy snorted derisively.

"I guess not," Harry admitted. He had to repress a hysterical giggle. Were they really gossiping about Voldemort's sex life? That was gross, but at the same time it was a startling idea to consider: Voldemort engaging in something as common – even though highly pleasurable – as sex. Harry had never been one for gossip, having been the victim of hurtful rumours himself far too often. This was about Voldemort however and every information he could get, might be important at one point.

"Besides, their marriage is arranged. It isn't unusual to have a playmate of some sort on the side to satisfy one's needs," Malfoy added with a hint of impatience, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and for him it probably was. He had grown up with that very warped pureblood concept of marriage in mind.

"Mind you, their arrangement is not officially acknowledged, obviously. "

"Why?" Harry was bewildered. As Malfoy had just pointed out to him, none of his followers would dare to deny Voldemort anything, would they?

"It's simply not done." Malfoy said snottily, "although they make it awfully difficult to ignore." Harry frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Did they snog in public? Somehow Harry could imagine neither Bellatrix nor Voldemort snogging, least of all each other. Besides, why did everybody pretend there was nothing going on between them?

"What do you mean? "Harry blinked.

"Well," Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, "The Dark Lord tends to spend his time at his followers' homes. This summer he has spent at Malfoy manor. Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband have been there as well. She kept on turning up for breakfast in the company of the Dark Lord," Malfoy swallowed, "Etiquette obviously forced everybody to ignore the matter and not acknowledge that they had caught on in any way. Mother especially was struggling to hide her disapproval over her sister's behaviour to put her arrangement on public display but she did not dare meet the Dark Lord's wrath, of course. I think, the Dark Lord was greatly enjoying everybody's discomfort; after all nobody would dare to call the Dark Lord on his behaviour."

Harry let out a laugh. The image of Voldemort, sitting at the top of a long formal breakfast table, a malicious glint in his eyes as he observed everyone's nervous fidgeting, trying to find any offence in their manner's, while purposefully baiting them, was just too funny, absurd, but ridiculously funny. Disregarding the rules and daring his followers to call him on it, which of course would never actually happen, was probably far more appealing to the sadistic bastard than something as mundane as marriage. Otherwise, Voldemort surely would have had no qualms about killing Rodolphus Lestrange or having him killed. Voldemort dished out the Unforgivables like Mrs. Weasley's second helpings, after all.

"How much Dark Arts do you actually know?" Harry asked Malfoy then.

"Not much," Malfoy said with a far away look, "Bellatrix Lestrange was supposed to start teaching me this summer."

"I would have thought you had started much earlier," Harry was astonished.

"One usually does not get very far before one hits puberty," Malfoy explained.

"Why is that?" Harry wanted to know.

"One needs to have at least some sexual awareness. Besides, performing Dark Arts is detrimental to a growing teenager's health."

"What has sex got to do with that?"

"Well without that you can have malicious intent, but you are an innocent. You need to be truly conscious of your dark side, as well as your light side. An innocent can do wrong but has not the same sense of right and wrong as an adult. For the Dark Arts to work you have to purposefully do wrong. A sexual encounter can bring emotions of an extremely tender nature to the front but it also brings our dark side to the surface most easily," Malfoy looked knowingly at Harry.

Harry nodded uneasily, starting to understand the concept. He shivered. His tryst with Malfoy just now had not exactly brought his tender side to the front. He had only been intent on dominating Malfoy, submitting him to his will, – not that he had exactly harmed him, it had been mostly symbolic after all. While Malfoy had given his consent and had seemed to enjoy it as much as Harry, Harry had been quite rough.

Harry had never really pondered how sex was supposed to be like, before but somehow he had always considered it to be an at least somewhat affectionate exchange. He had always dreamt of one day being part of a loving relationship just like his parents had been.

While sex with Malfoy had not been exactly affectionate – and wouldn't that just be weird with Malfoy of all people – they had gotten to know each other very intimately, naked without the usual euphemistic masks that covered people's less favourable traits; they had been bare in body and mind.

And yet Harry did not feel comfortable with the picture of his self that presented itself to him. Should he feel the desire to dominate, humiliate, control?

"But why is it unhealthy for growing teenagers?" Harry asked his next question, purposefully shaking of his worries. Malfoy seemed to be really knowledgeable about the Dark Arts; not that Harry was surprised.

"The Dark Arts do not only destroy the victim, but part of the caster as well. The Dark Arts always destroy and always take, more then they give," Malfoy recited and shivered, "I wasn't very good at them. I couldn't conquer my consciousness. I didn't want to destroy. Desperation, wanting to save my life is no true incentive to truly want to destroy and harm," Malfoy said agitatedly, twirling strands of his hair in between his thumbs.

"That is why I would not be able to cast the killing curse. It is considered the rite of passage for any dark wizard. After that the Dark Arts become easier and so addictive that there is almost no turning back. Think of how your personality would have to transform for you to truly enjoy the destruction of another human being. After the first kill the path further into the Dark Arts is said to be much smoother. One has to give up so much of oneself to get to the point of being capable of performing the killing curse. I don't want to become like that," Malfoy admitted.

Harry still felt troubled by his reaction to the poem, now even more so than before. Did that mean that he was turning dark? He did not want to. He wanted to be good, but should the poem have affected him so strongly then? He did not dare voice his fears aloud though, as if they would have somehow become more real.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed and again a huge thank you to my beta, HPAddictsAnonymous. You can probably expect the next chapter very soon. **

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**Chapter 19 **

"Your grandmother has agreed to accompany me to my meeting with the minister," Harry grinned at Neville, as he put the letter down.

"I knew she would!" Neville gushed, "She's always thought the ministry's a bunch of duffers. She'll love to see them taken to task for past mistakes."

"Err," Harry could only hope that she would not butt in too much. After all, he had plans of his own that reached much further than reprimanding the ministry and revenge on Umbridge, satisfying as that would be.

"It might be better to meet with her beforehand; so she has an idea what to expect," Harry decided. Neville nodded.

"You could meet her at Longbottom Estate and then you could floo to Le Fey together,"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed.

"By the way, what are your plans for the winter holidays?" Neville asked seemingly casual, as if he was somehow unsure of himself.

"Uh," Harry frowned. He had not really considered any holiday plans, but now that he thought about it, it was a rather pressing matter, it was only a month until Christmas. Harry had always either stayed at Hogwarts or with the Weasleys for Christmas. Now that Harry was no longer even on speaking terms with Ron, he would not feel comfortable about spending his holidays with the Weasleys. Even though he was still friends with Ginny and the twins and Harry was almost certain that Molly and Arthur Weasley would still invite him, it just did not feel right. That basically left staying at Hogwarts Harry mused. Then he realized that the holidays would present the perfect opportunity to set his plans in motion, like founding his help organisations for werewolves and muggleborns.

"I dunno," Harry finally said thoughtfully.

"You could spend the holidays with me," Neville smiled brilliantly, "only if you want, of course," he added more subdued, Harry gazed thoughtfully at Neville, he had never stayed at another wizarding home before. He had only ever stayed at the Weasley's, well and at Grimmauld Place, but somehow this did not count. Grimmauld Place had not been a home to anybody since Sirius' mother had died and as Headquarters to the Order it had again mostly been Molly Weasley's efforts that had made it at least somewhat homey.

Harry had no idea how other wizarding households worked. The Weasleys were muggle sympathisers to the extreme and thus they did not exactly represent the norm of wizarding families. When Harry had heard that most wizards even celebrated different holidays, it had hit him rather hard and for the first time he got an estimate of how truly clueless he was of the customs and overall dynamics of the wizarding world.

Staying at the Longbottom's might just be exactly what he needed. Neville's grandmother was not known for her over protectiveness, so Harry might actually get something done, while he stayed there.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry grinned, "I'll keep that in mind." Neville seemed disappointed, as if he thought Harry would not like to spend the holidays with him, as if he rather hoped to find a better option.

"You're a great friend." Harry added and Neville smiled shyly back at him, a small blush tinting his cheeks.

Thursday after dinner Harry slipped into the Chamber of Secrets for some alone time. He had far too much on his mind; Malfoy, his meeting with the minister, Horcruxes, Voldemort, Dark Arts and whether he himself showed signs of turning dark. Once again his thoughts were a jumbled mess. He should really get used to his head bursting under the pressure of new problems and riddles to be solved. Finding new solutions to those troubles was shifting his pulsing mind into overdrive.

The next day he would meet the minister, so his most pressing concern was how to convince the minister to support or at least not oppose his plans. Harry felt socially inept, not that it really mattered, but he felt that he would be a little more confident, if he had been to a real restaurant at least once before, not just a bar with a some simple snacks.

While he had aimed to teach himself manners and even thought he had succeeded somewhat, he still felt awkward in a more formal setting. Which probably was one of the reasons of why the minister had invited him to the, to quote Ginny, 'poshest' restaurant there was in the whole of wizarding Britain. Aside from making him uncomfortable, the exclusive meeting place was meant to show that the minister was making an honest effort as well, but of course Harry could not help feeling that the restaurant was deliberately chosen to intimidate him, in order to make him more pliable.

It should not really matter, of course, if he could follow etiquette to the letter. Harry would not allow the setting to distract him from his aims, but still as his gaze swept unseeingly over the study, in anticipation to the meeting, his stomach was making rather disturbing gurgling sounds due to the anxiety he felt. It wasn't that he feared to make a fool of himself, well at least he did not care that much, but he rather feared that he might jeopardize his plans.

Harry's gaze rested on the green stone wall where Slytherin's portrait hung. Slytherin had obviously witnessed Harry's last encounter with Malfoy, Harry realized belatedly. While this was only a portrait, a charmed object, it seemed rather sentient to Harry and it certainly acted like a thinking individual. He fought the deep red blotches forming on his cheeks, as Slytherin smoothly greeted him.

"Mr Potter," he inclined his head, "It's been a while since we have last spoken."

"Indeed," Harry said, desperately trying to overcome his embarrassment. That Slytherin did not hint, even indirectly, at what he had witnessed, made the situation even more awkward to Harry and he felt compelled to start on that topic himself, to blurt out explanations.

As he looked at the couch, vivid images of Draco Malfoy on that couch, under him, replayed in his mind. He remembered restraining Malfoy, dominating him, fucking him. He shivered. They must have given the portrait quite a show, even though they must have been hidden from view at least. This was creepy and so embarrassing! Slytherin had heard it all.

"Am I turning dark?" Harry finally blurted out. He could ask Slytherin what he could not have asked Malfoy. Slytherin was only a portrait, after all, and yet he had witnessed the beast within Harry. Slytherin was said to have been a dark wizard himself, although he did not seem to be a bad person. Slytherin should know, shouldn't he?

"No child," Slytherin chuckled, clearly amused, though why, Harry could not make out.

"I am no child," Harry bit out, his jaw firmly set.

"Not anymore," Slytherin conceded with a knowing smirk that turned almost feral when Harry felt his cheeks heat up even more, "You're no adult, either,"

"I'll only turn seventeen next summer,"

"Ah, that's not what I meant," Slytherin carelessly waved his comment aside with his hand, "You have merely stepped up a step on the stair that is called adolescence."

"Why? How?" Harry felt that instead of answering his questions, Slytherin responded with even more riddles.

"By your question, I deduce that you have become conscious of your dark side; that is the first step to adulthood. The next step is to get to know your dark side."

"I don't want to become dark!" Harry exclaimed panic colouring his voice.

"You don't have to be," Slytherin sneered and then cocked his head, "Now I finally know what house you are in! Calm down your Gryffindor tendencies to jump to conclusions and give me the courtesy of listening!" Slytherin's commanding voice had the effect of ice water being dumped over Harry's head. He nodded mutely. He had reacted rather foolishly, after all.

"I apologize, sir. Please continue." Slytherin gazed penetratingly at him and then nodded curtly.

"Everybody has a dark side. Maturity means acknowledging and accepting that side of you." He looked intently at Harry, who barely restrained his next outburst.

"Do you want to be great?" he asked Harry with his penetrating gaze that although coming from a portrait seemed to pierce Harry's soul.

"I want to be good!" Harry answered, his voice quivering, again looking at the couch where it seemed to have all begun.

"Then you have to be aware of your potential. Your dark tendencies won't disappear only because you deny them. You won't achieve any kind of greatness, if you cannot accept yourself for who you are, all of yourself." Slytherin's velvety tones were mocking Harry, challenging him to lash out, again.

"But..."

"How could you be good, if you do not acknowledge your innate darkness? Goodness is a choice and not a matter of not knowing any better!" Slytherin shook his head and Harry nodded slowly.

"Everybody has a dark side and whoever has not, could never be truly good." Slytherin added calmly and Harry frowned, still struggling with the concept.

"I'll think about that," he finally said. Slytherin nodded.

"On another note I formally offer you my support in fighting the Dark Lord," he then said,

"My name shall once again be associated with true greatness and you shall help me with that." Harry was dumbfounded. Finally he had Slytherin where he had wanted him all along, but it seemed rather sudden. What had brought that on?

"Young Mr. Malfoy has convinced me. He was the first contact to the world for over thousand years aside from you; a crafty young man who shares my view of the world and yet he has not even been aware of my presence," Harry snapped his mouth shut only to blush furiously when Slytherin continued.

"My word seems to carry some worth even to this day, if it is used as an exclamation in all kinds of situations. I believe I can be of some assistance to you." Harry felt his blush spreading down his neck. He was mortified. He remembered all too well how Malfoy had screamed:

"Salazar! Potter! Yes!"

While Slytherins were sly and not above role playing to achieve their ends, staging anything sexual would be over the top, even for them, Harry guessed. That Slytherin had witnessed their intimate encounter now served as the most authentic proof for Harry's claims to be true, embarrassing as it was.

"Your name still carries a lot of weight in some circles," Harry agreed in an annoyingly squeaky voice. Slytherin smirked amusedly and Harry added carefully, "The disagreement between you and your colleagues caused our society to stagnate at the time of your disappearance. You have become some sort of prophet for some Purebloods. The topic of muggleborns has not been touched without raised wands at all since that time. Politicians have not openly debated the matter at all. They are not concerned with true greatness. Rather than attempting to make changes for the better, they are concerned about votes and popularity."

"Fools!"

"I will force a public discussion on that topic and I believe I can gather a lot of support from all sides," Harry said, "So far I have only talked to people from my year. I have a muggleborn friend. She agrees with my views." Slytherin scowled distastefully but did not comment.

"She's been top of the year since her first year," Harry added proudly, "She wants to belong, as she belongs to neither the muggle, nor wizarding world as of now! Most Purebloods are still sceptical, but not adverse to my ideas. They certainly want Voldemort gone. They will come around; with your help sooner rather than later."

"I'll need to make a public statement then," Slytherin said.

"Yes," Harry bit his lip," That will shatter the foundations of our society."

"Indeed," Slytherin smirked.

"It's about time!" Harry added fiercely, "But publicly siding against Voldemort will put you at a huge risk."

"Then so be it. May this be my last leap at greatness a millennium after my death! My name shall be revered again!"

"I appreciate your help," Harry said honestly, "It seems rather courageous of you?"

"Right now I am but a portrait secluded away under the school. I abhor the waste of courageous deeds that do not fulfil their intended purpose. However, a Slytherin is to do what is necessary to best reach his ends!" Harry smiled at that.

"Tomorrow night I'm having dinner with the minister," Harry said. Slytherin raised his eyebrows.

"You've got a lot of influence for a halfblood."

"I'm a living legend. I've survived the killing curse," Harry said with a disgusted twist of his lips and shrugged, "I think the minister is attempting to do damage control now." He proceeded to tell Slytherin of Fudge and Umbridge. Slytherin scowled, while he processed the information and Harry went on.

"Well I'll try to use this to my advantage, of course."

"Of course," Slytherin smirked, "See that you give him the opportunity to do damage control though. Allow him to let himself actually look good, while he does what you want. His cooperation shall come much more easily. You don't want to make him your enemy needlessly." Harry stared at him. Was Slytherin really offering advice on how to manipulate the minister? Was Harry supposed to suck up to the minister, when he had openly opposed Fudge? The very idea made him sick. Some of Harry's bewilderment must have shown on his face, for Slytherin elaborated.

"Threats will not get you as far as flattery. There is no need to make an enemy, if you can make an ally, after all."


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you for taking an interest in my story, although book seven is finally out. Thanks also to my beta, who makes time in her schedule to look through my chapters. **

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This story will implement basic facts from Deathly Hollows from now on. Of course, this story is still very much AU. However, only Harry is different and while his actions influence others as well, he has no influence on what has happened before his change of attitude. I'm trying very hard to keep him in character (he is not perfect and still a teenager.) and I feel that I am sometimes stretching it to its limits. This is why everything is progressing quite slowly. I hope it is not getting boring.  
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**Chapter 20**

Harry stared long and hard at the mirror in his dorm. He stared at the imposing wizard that stared critically back at him from the mirror. He tried to reconcile the image of the confident young man with the image he had of himself, tried to imprint that image into his mind.

He had no clue about the subtleties of either muggle, or wizarding fashion and to him this was of no importance. He had put his trust solely in Madame Malkin to know what would be appropriate for the occasion. He only wanted to make a competent, grown up impression, after all.

As a result he was clad in a black cloak and dark green robes, a colour Ginny had recommended, because it brought out the colour of his eyes, apparently. The loose fabric was designed to conceal his still boyish frame in order to make him appear more mature and competent, or that was at least what the note that had come with the robe had said. Finally, his ensemble was finished with a stiff pointed hat.

Of course, he had notified the headmaster of his meeting with the minister beforehand. Just as Lawyer Greengrass had done, Dumbledore had advised Harry to allow an adult witness. When Harry had said that Mrs. Longbottom had already agreed to accompany him, Dumbledore had looked quite crestfallen. The rift that had developed between the two of them had never been more pronounced. Instead of inviting Dumbledore, his long time mentor, Harry had asked a friend's grandmother that was almost a stranger to him. Yet Harry felt he could not trust the headmaster to not meddle and prevent Harry from going forward with his plans.

By the worried frown that had creased Dumbledore's wrinkled face, Harry deduced that Dumbledore did not quite know what to make of Harry's attitude towards him. Was it teenage rebellion that caused him to hold on to his grudge, his distrust towards his old mentor? Was there more to it? His attitude was not one of a sullen child, Harry thought; after all, he had matured greatly. No longer did he allow his temper to get the better of him; instead he was always polite, if at times frostily distanced. Evidently, Dumbledore did not know everything and that he, Harry was a cause of mystery to Dumbledore was a refreshing change from the times when Harry must have been as easily read as an open book.Then at five o'clock Harry finally flooed from the Headmaster's office to Longbottom Estate. The portraits of what obviously were long deceased Longbottoms lined the walls of the corridor leading to the living area. The sound of footsteps interrupted Harry's inspections and he turned around to greet Augusta Longbottom.

"Mrs. Longbottom, it's a pleasure to meet you,"

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Potter," she said in a manner that reminded him very strongly of Professor McGonagall.

"Shall we proceed to the living room then?" Mrs. Longbottom suggested.

"Of course," Harry nodded politely and Mrs. Longbottom walked briskly on, till they reached a large living room with a generously spaced seating area. It seemed like a room from another time, or more as if the room had sent them back to the time of the first Longbottom, who had decorated and furnished the room. It was covered with a fine sheen of ancient tradition and hummed quietly with the stories of Longbottoms long deceased. There was no scratch, no stain at all marring the ancient furniture. The orange colour of the flowery decor adorning the walls looked as fresh as the first day. Yet the room did not appear like a museum but rather more lively and lived in than any other room Harry had ever been in.

When they where both seated, Mrs. Longbottom snapped a finger and a house elf appeared.

"Bring us some refreshments, dear." she said and with a bow the house elf popped away.

"Thank you for your unwavering support. It means a lot to me." Harry said earnestly. Mrs. Longbottom waved away his comment.

"You are a fine young man. You have been good for my grandson."

"I am proud to be able to call Neville my friend," Harry said with a smile. He always felt awkward in situations like this but did his best not to let it show. It made him feel awfully young and socially inept. He never knew what to do with his hands and had to restrain himself from fidgeting nervously under the piercing gaze of Augusta Longbottom.

The house elf popped back in with a tray of tea and biscuits and vanished as quickly as it had come. Mrs. Longbottom sipped from the fragile looking cup with the same orange flower ornaments as those on the wall, then put it carefully on the table.

"Let's talk about that meeting of yours," she said briskly.

"I greatly appreciate that you are willing to do this. Basically I need you as a witness I could call up later on, should the need arise," Harry began, "You are well known to speak your mind and to not break down under the strain of pressure. I will try to use the scandal around Umbridge's release from office to negotiate with the ministry. I am not solely out for revenge and justice on this matter alone." Mrs. Longbottom looked at him attentively but remained silent. So Harry went on."I trust the minister is out to do some damage control. This should make negotiating easier. Umbridge has been behind a lot of laws against magical creatures and half breeds. Right now the ministry would not look good, defending those laws. I want those laws to be changed back. Then I also want the ministry to change their attitude towards muggleborns. I believe that right now I might be in the position to make some changes." Mrs. Longbottom looked thoughtful, then nodded approvingly.

"There is more to you than meets the eye. Your parents would be very proud of you!"

"I hope so," Harry said, "I would appreciate, if you stayed in the background. I think it is important to appear independent, a force by myself, so to speak." he then added carefully. From how Neville referred to his grandmother Harry knew that the Longbottom matriarch tended to be a bit over bearing. She seemed a little disgruntled for a moment but then relaxed.

"I'm sure you will be able to hold your own," she then said.

"Neville told me that you knew my mother?" Harry asked with a wistful note in his voice.

"Such a fine young lady, impeccable manners, an admirable witch with a fire... Well it does not do to dwell on the past," she said a little too gruffly.

They quietly sipped their tea and all too soon it was time to leave the old fashioned living room. Mrs. Longbottom grabbed her overly large handbag and together they marched back to the entrance hall. Mrs. Longbottom stepped through first, then directly after her Harry stumbled out of the green flames in another fireplace.

He looked around, the whole room was made of beautifully carved ice blocks. Yet the room was comfortably warm. The ceiling reminded Harry once again of a church, only it was made of ice as well.

Harp music filled his ears and in the corner on the other side of the room Harry saw an elderly man eliciting the enticing tones from the instrument. Harry could not help but smile, as if his worries were somehow carried away with the tune.

The hall appeared huge and yet small nooks, separated by thin ice walls gave the guests privacy from each other. With a low bow a waiter came to a halt in front of Harry and his escort.

"Welcome to Le Fay, Mrs. Longbottom, Mr. Potter,"

"We have an appointment with Minister Scrimgour," Harry said quietly.

"Of course. Allow me to show you to your room," the waiter said with another deep bow and then at Harry's nod of agreement he let them to a door on the side. They went up a moving stair and came to a halt in front of a large door. The waiter opened the door.

"Mr. Potter and Mrs. Longbottom, Minister." The waiter stepped aside and Harry followed Mrs. Longbottom into the room. Inside the ice walls a warming fire was licking the ice and yet not melting it. Fire and ice, two contrasting elements, existing in harmony were a truly magical sight. The minister stood up and approached them with a slight limp. Then he offered his hand to shake.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Longbottom – what a pleasant surprise!" he said, but while he seemed indeed surprised, he did not seem pleased to see Mrs. Longbottom at all. He seemed rather put out and didn't know what to make of her presence.

"Mrs. Longbottom was so kind as to accompany me, Minister," Harry said pleasantly.

"Of course," the minister blinked a few times, then shook himself out of it and Harry mused that he had probably expected Dumbledore to accompany him.

"Well, would you like to place an order then?" the minister asked and the waiter approached. Harry thought that he should probably avoid alcoholic beverages as much as possible. He needed to keep a cool head. Yet pumpkin juice would put too much emphasize on the fact that he was still underage.

"A butterbeer would be nice for now," he compromised. He had had his fair share of butterbeer ever since he was allowed to visit Hogsmeade on weekends and he hoped he would be able to gauge its effects well enough. Mrs. Longbottom and the Minister ordered an ale and the waiter handed them the menu. It was incredibly thick with worn out yellowed pages.

Harry deliberately took his time as he studied the menu that appeared to be written in old English. Finally he settled on a dish he knew. He had always enjoyed Shepherd's Pie, although it had been aunt Petunia who had made it and he had never gotten more than a small slice. He had never had the chance to culture his taste buds and right now he was too stressed out to try something new.

"Let me personally and in the name of the ministry offer my sincere apologies for the injustice done to you," Scrimgour said and Harry acknowledged the apology with a tiny nod. Harry did not know what to make of the man, he had yet to find out what made him tick.  
The drinks magically appeared on the table and the three of them raised their glasses.

"To Life and Magic." Their voices echoed strongly within the ice walls. It was the traditional toast among wizards, voicing the link all magical beings shared, even if nowadays wizards no longer included other magical beings.

The toast enabled witches and wizards of every political standing to at least once make an unreserved statement in a mixed social gathering, where words were often minced and twisted around and never spoken without at least some ulterior motives.

Harry had read about the history of the toast in "A Guide for the Young Pureblood" and had been shocked and amused at the same time that the toast was openly acknowledged as the sometimes only sincere statement made at a social gathering. While he hoped that the book was exaggerating, it was quite telling.

As Harry took his first sip he measured the new minister with his eyes. Was Scrimgour more of an idealist or an opportunist, trying to gain as much power as possible? As annoying as he considered power hungry politicians to be, they were probably much easier to deal with than idealists. If Scrimgour's main aim was to solidify his own power, he merely had to make him believe that going along with Harry was the best way to go about it.

If Scrimgour was acting out of conviction and following certain ideals, Harry would have to start a tedious discussion about said ideals, which might not lead anywhere at all. Idealists did not budge from their position that easily. So what kind of politician would Scrimgour turn out to be?

"I am glad you have finally agreed to meet with me at last. I can understand why you would be reluctant to have faith in the very institution which only recently has done you so much harm, but isn't it better to meet those topics head on?" the Minister went on. He seemed earnest, yet there was something Harry did not understand.

"Excuse me, Minister, but are you saying that you have actually tried to contact me before?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Of course, I have! Your headmaster however assured me that you needed time to grieve, that you were adverse to the idea; so I respected your wishes, of course"

"I have been unaware of your attempts to contact me," Harry interrupted with a deadly calm, "I dare say that I would have considered your request, not immediately after the events at the department of mysteries, mind you, but... You would have done well to contact me directly, instead of the Headmaster." Scrimgour looked contemplatingly at Harry.

"I shall do so from now on," he finally said and Harry nodded. Scrimgour's most remarkable feature were his yellow eyes. Maybe his Lawyer and Madame Hooch were related to the Minister. It was not even that unlikely, as all Purebloods were interrelated.

"We have grave times ahead of us, Mr. Potter," Scrimgour stated as the food appeared on the table.

"Indeed," Harry agreed solemnly. Scrimgour had been Head of the Auror Department, before he became minister. He was bound to have a different outlook on the war than Fudge.

"Then Mr. Potter you will understand that it is your duty in those dark times to inspire hope in the people," Scrimgour said pompously and Harry mentally confirmed the minister to be not much of an idealist, at least.

Just after he had apologized to Harry, he was making demands, as if he was glad that part was finally over and now he could go on to more important matters – exploiting Harry's good image and using him to make the ministry look better.

Idealists however rarely got very far in politics, as their ideals got in the way; so either they had had no ideals to begin with or they had to leave them behind, to discard the heavy luggage on their way to the top.

"I don't oppose the ministry on principle and in all matters," Harry retorted with a shake of his head, internally seething at the minister's attempt to use him, "but wouldn't I do the people a disservice, were I to give them a false sense of security?" The only outward sign of his rage were the white knuckles on his hand, clutching the knife very tightly.

"The ministry takes care of security," Scrimgour argued.

"Unfortunately, they have not been very successful so far," Harry retorted, "I feel that very much needs to be done for the ministry to work efficiently, in which case I will certainly support the ministry," while he was meticulously cutting off a bite of his pie.

"You cannot command the actions of the ministry," Scrimgour was outraged.

"No, I cannot, but neither can the ministry force my support," Harry remained calm, although beneath the surface of his polite mask a wild fury was raging. Scrimgour did not really seem to care about the people, at least not as much as about his own image.

"I'm sure that the ministry is making an effort," Harry lied shamelessly and added after he had taken a small bite of his food, "It's just that with people like Umbridge around very little can be accomplished." He was almost enjoying their banter now. While telling the minister exactly what he thought of him, might have been satisfying at the moment, gaining the upper hand in the long run was far more appealing. So Harry kept a tight hold on his temper.

Harry felt that he might get much further if he allowed the minister to play the role of the kind man, aiming to do the right thing in difficult times. That was the image the minister wished to project to the public after all. Harry did not care for the reasons the minister might end up doing the right things, as long as he did the right things in the end. After last year he had lost any left over illusions about the shoddy business politics tended to be. He knew now that ideals and morals would not be the deciding factors to achieve anything in politics.

Mrs. Longbottom gave a snort, looking very much like she was going to have one of her very outspoken moments. She had raised her chin, her eyes wild, as if she was going to rip the minister apart, if only by her very cutting remarks. Harry shook his head at her, half warning, half pleading. Mrs. Longbottom was not a woman one ordered around or restrained. She would not stand for it, one could only request, but damn it: This was his meeting and she had no right to interfere. Finally Mrs. Longbottom gave him a tiny nod and Harry took that to mean she would wait how everything played out before laying into the minister.

"Well Madame Umbridge has been released from office," Scrimgour sounded annoyed.

"Well I and most students at Hogwarts, it would seem, were extremely relieved when we read the article in the Daily Prophet," Harry smiled at him, "However, I shudder to think who else is doing things they shouldn't right under the ministry's nose. I don't think I am the only one feeling a bit weary of the ministry in general at the moment, but I'm sure you will take the investigations a step further now that you have become aware of Former Undersecretary Umbridge's crimes."

Scrimgour stared hard at Harry. He looked grim as if he was becoming aware that Harry was masterfully playing him. Obviously he was not liking it one bit.

"Of course," he ground out and Mrs. Longbottom clucked her tongue in a very disbelieving manner.

"I am sure investigations will be made with no regard to rank within the ministry or society," Harry said, "after all its those in higher ranking positions that can cause so much more damage." Harry did not have to fake the shudder accompanying that statement.

"I know I will gain much more trust in the ministry after a semi-public ministry clean up," Harry said, although Harry knew he would never take politicians at face value or really trust the ministry, again. Politics were too much about ambitions and personal aims of those involved to effectively take care of the pressing problems the wizarding world was suffering from.

Scrimgour gave a jerky nod, barely concealing his sneer.

"Former Undersecretary Umbridge has passed a lot of laws, restricting the rights of magical creatures and half breeds, making them outcasts and more approachable for Voldemort." Harry began and noticed Scrimgour's wince with satisfaction.

"Now considering the crimes she has committed I think those laws should be up for debate again, so appropriate changes can be made."

"Appropriate changes?" Scrimgour looked like it finally dawned on him in what kind of situation he found himself in. Most likely he had expected the attention seeking boy as portrayed in the Daily Prophet last year, or he had anticipated that Harry would shirk away from the attention the way he really would have before the summer. Harry guessed that the minister had been prepared to be confronted with a somewhat sullen child, who he would have been able to deal with easily enough. Whatever image the minister had had of Harry, Scrimgour had firmly believed himself to be in charge of the conversation. What Scrimgour could not cope with, though, was the polite and yet so infuriatingly cunning young man, who had immediately taken charge.

"Well those Restriction Acts ended their chances to have a somewhat decent living within wizarding society. I could not exactly blame them, were the majority of them to chose a darker alternative."

"Well, Harry my boy that is a tricky subject. Those restriction laws had a lot of support in the Wizengamot and you must be aware that werewolves are quite dangerous. We cannot have them run around loose on top of everything."

"Well as for them being dangerous – they are only so on the full moon and then only without wolfsbane potion. Now I know most werewolves could not afford an expensive potion like that, as most of them can't even find a job in the wizarding world with those laws still in effect, which is what makes them potentially dangerous the rest of the month as well. If necessary I will give out the potion for free to any werewolf, taking an unbreakable vow not to attack a human being while transformed, other than in self defence." Scrimgour gaped at him, incredulously.

"Why would you do this? You can't even afford this!" he exclaimed.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Harry smiled, "Of course, I'll make sure to make the public aware of those new options for werewolves," he added and thus made it clear that Scrimgour would be forced to take a stand on the matter.

"We can't take our chances with dark creatures in times like these," Scrimgour said appalled, "You will cause an uproar. Your plan will be met with much opposition."

"I am aware of that," Harry inclined his head, "I dare say it is risky to take our chances with anything. However, changes are definitely needed. The matter about muggleborns finally needs to be debated in public as well and not as a matter of dark or light alliances."

"This is not a matter easily solved. It's best to let it rest," Scrimgour said uneasily. Whatever side he would take in a debate like this would lose the minister support, Harry supposed. However, the topic had been avoided for over thousand years and obviously avoiding it had not solved anything.

"Muggleborns need to be educated in wizarding culture before they attend Hogwarts, so they fit in and can be productive members of the magical community."

"You will cause an uproar!" Scrimgour growled.

"Most of them don't really feel at home in the muggle world. A lot of them are abused, because they stick out from the norm. It is high time we take care of our own!" Harry countered.

"I am founding a beneficial organisation to take care of the well being of muggleborns and their integration into our world," Harry said, "You won't have to actually take a side. As long as the conflict is not solved one way or another, there will be muggleborns around. Nothing will change but them fitting in better, which should be in everybody's interest."

"That does not sound too bad," Scrimgour frowned. He was probably thinking on how this could actually make him look good in the eyes of most people. The "muggle- lover" and muggleborn fraction would be delighted that something was finally done for muggleborns. The pureblood elitists might just consider muggleborns accustomed to wizarding ways less of a nuisance, as they would at least no longer be so annoyingly unaware of their social blunders, if the wizarding world had to tolerate their presence. Harry had no idea on which side Scrimgour personally stood, but he thought that his plan would be able to accommodate a fair amount of political manoeuvring on Scrimgour's part, which should satisfy the minister.

"As for making public appearances with you, I am not adverse to that, as long as I get to speak my mind." Harry stated and Scrimgour paled. He had probably envisioned press conferences with a malleable Harry Potter, but now after this dinner conversation Scrimgour seemed very adverse to the idea of Harry making any public statements at all.

"I will be sure to reach the public in regards to the matters important to me, anyway," Harry said. The minister seemed extremely stressed and also very angry. It had to be odd to be cajoled into things he was not quite willing to do by a mere teenager and that only a few months after he had become the supposedly most powerful man of the country.

"I don't exactly consider you an opponent, you know," Harry said amicably, "although I am certain that sometimes we will have to agree to disagree on some matters."

"Well, thank you for that very enlightening conversation," Scrimgour said stiffly, yet slightly more relaxed, obviously recognising the olive branch offered for what it was.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21  
**

Waiting in Myrtle's bathroom Ginny seemed incredibly nervous yet fiercely determined to confront the memories of her first year and to overcome her fear. Hermione appeared torn between academic curiosity and apprehension to enter a hostile environment. After all, the chamber was known to have been built as a tool to kill off muggleborns such as her, in order to remove them from Hogwarts. Neville looked nervous as well but a calm loyalty and trust towards Harry shone in his eyes. Harry smiled gratefully at his friends.

Then the door swung open and Greengrass and Zabini swept in. It seemed they had dressed up for the occasion. Greengrass had even swept up her mousy hair in an orderly nest of curls and tendrils on the top of her head. Their eyes shone with excitement. Harry smiled at the new additions to their group and after a round of greetings Harry approached the sink with the snake carving.

"Open," he hissed and the sink shifted to reveal the entrance to the chamber. Due to the frequent use it moved almost soundlessly by now, only a hint of grinding stones could be heard. Harry went first, in order to prove to the others that the place was indeed safe.

"Come on down!" he called, when he had landed in the entrance hall of the chamber. Neville arrived next.

"This is amazing," he exclaimed awed, "Who would have thought that this was hidden under the school!"

Ginny and Zabini slid down next, landing in a tangled heap on the floor.

"Omph," Ginny rubbed her knee, while Zabini subtly massaged his stomach, where Ginny had apparently hit him with her elbow. Then he swiftly pulled himself up and extended his hand to Ginny. Ginny looked around uneasily. She seemed tense, as if she expected an attack any moment now. Greengrass landed with a thud on the polished floor. Neville rushed to help her up. With a smile she took his hand.

"Thanks,"

Then finally Hermione came down as well. She barely noticed that she had landed rather undignified on her bottom, as she curiously looked around to take in her surroundings.

"Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said as he helped her up, "So ready for a tour?" Ginny had yet to release Zabini's hand and moved to anxiously clutch his whole arm rather tightly.

"Sure, show us around." Ginny's too loud voice echoed in the large entrance hall. Hermione had gone to examine a part of the dark green carvings on the walls.

"How intriguing!" she exclaimed. "I imagine this has been lost for some time now." Zabini looked at the runes and guided Ginny over to have a look at what had Hermione so excited. As of yet Harry had not given the carvings any further attention, as to him they were but tasteful, very magical decorations. He could not interpret them anyway, since he had not taken ancient runes. Instead he had taken what he had considered the easiest subject at the time and had ended up with that fraud Trelawney. Instead of learning anything useful or even anything at all, he had gotten a course that was a waste of time and of no use to him at all."What is it?" Harry asked. "It tells the story of the pre Merlin magical community, when other magical beings still inhabited our world along side humans. I'll need some time to translate this!" Hermione smiled broadly and Zabini's eyes glowed.

"This find alone will put you into a position of power among our world!" he smirked at Harry. Hermione was frantically rummaging through her robes, obviously looking for parchment.

"You can come back later on. This is only the entrance hall, remember?" Harry cut in before she had immersed herself too deeply into her studies. With one last regretful look Hermione followed Harry to the snake carving leading to the main chamber.

"I thought we could do our training here!" Harry said, as they stopped in the middle of the main chamber.

"This is most impressive, Potter," drawled Zabini, whose eyes were glued to the ceiling, while Hermione's eyes swept over the long walls adorned with yet more runes.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said quietly as she took in the silvery glow of the walls, "This is really a different place from my first year!" Harry nodded.

"I don't think Voldemort was aware that the main treasure of the chamber was not the basilik. Only after I had Dobby clean and renew the place did I become aware of its beauty. The carvings have not even been visible before. I wonder, whether Voldemort can even appreciate beauty."

"Judging from his own appearance I doubt it." Ginny snorted.

"Anyway, let's get started. I want you to pair up. One of you is to hit the other with tickling charms and stinging hexes. Cast them as quickly as you can. The only defence is to dodge. Once you are hit you switch roles immediately. Being hit wont harm you, but keep in mind that you might as well be dodging an Unforgivable."

"This is insane!" Zabini muttered and Greengrass seemed to agree with him, Hermione's gaze kept longingly glued to the walls, while Neville and Ginny looked quite eager to get started.

"Allow me to help you ease some of your pent up frustration at having to get physical," Harry smirked at Zabini, as he stepped away from the group, "you get a free shot at hexing me; only stinging hexes and tickling charms, of course." Zabini smirked and began to throw stinging hexes in earnest.

Harry had learnt at an early age how to dodge. Avoiding Dudley's kicks and punches had trained his reflexes to an unusually high level. As Zabini kept firing hexes, Harry put his past experiences to good use, he ducked, moved to the side, jumped and rolled on the ground. A lot of Zabini's spells even went astray. Harry was still quite small for his age and he took great care to present as small a target as possible. His wiry frame was quite easy to miss.

It had been some time since he had had any physical exercise. He had not done anything remotely physical since the summer and it showed as after three minutes he felt small beads of sweat on his forehead. His concentration wavered and another minute later he was hit.

Greengrass looked thoughtfully at him.

"It should be impossible for a human being to move that fast."

"That is a direct result of practise, although I haven't done this in a long time." Harry shook his head, "It is why we are doing this." Hermione frowned.

"I don't think even a well trained muggle could react as quickly as you did. Your movements seemed to be magically enhanced."

"You think?" Harry blinked and thought back to his pre Hogwarts encounters with Dudley and his gang. Quite often it had been five against one and yet more often than not he had come out remarkably unscratched. While incredibly dumb, Dudley alone was physically stronger so he should have been able to over power Harry with his weight alone. Then there was this one time when he had been cornered and he could no longer dodge, he had found himself on the roof of the school.

"You might be in on something there," Harry said slowly and told them how he had been chased around by his fat muggle cousin and his gang. Contempt for his cousin and a hint of the desperation he had felt at the time shone in his eyes. Greengrass stared grimly at him, Ginny was growling lowly under her breath; her hair seemed to be actually crackling.

"How you have not become a follower of the Dark Lord is completely beyond me," Zabini shook his head,

"But I'm glad," he added.

"And nobody has come up and helped you – ever?" Hermione sounded outraged, but not at all disbelieving, which somehow confirmed Harry's suspicions that her life before Hogwarts had been difficult as well.

Had he really always been so self absorbed that never, in all those years of friendship, had at least once asked her about her life before Hogwarts, how her environment had reacted to her bouts of accidental magic? He had been wallowing in self pity and thinking that none of his friends could possibly understand what he had been through. What a prat he had been.

Neville just looked at Harry in sympathy. Understanding shone in his eyes as well. Of course, Neville would know what it felt like to be belittled, ridiculed by those stronger than himself. Once again Harry was hit quite forcefully with the fact that he was not alone. He had loyal friends at his side. He could rely on his friends and they could and would rely on him.

While Harry was lost in his own thoughts, Hermione's expression had switched from compassion to academic interest.

"You needed to develop your reflexes and flexibility out of necessity. Those must have been extremely emotionally charged moments in your childhood. Strong emotions are the usual cause of accidental magic. Maybe you automatically channel your magic into those movements by now, even when the situation is not that desperate."

"So dodging like this will drain me magically as well?" Harry frowned disappointedly. Greengrass shook her head.

"Actually I don't think so. As it is an unconscious use of magic on your part, I doubt that you spend a lot of magic on this. Your body is probably used to this."

"The magic only enhances your natural abilities. It should not require a lot of magic." Hermione added, "although the more physically fit you are the less magic would be required and the longer you can go on."

"Besides it would still be useful, even if it would drain you magically." Neville said.

"As it seems to trigger your magic to flow freely through your body, it might indeed increase your magical abilities," Zabini said thoughtfully.

"So will you give it a try?" Harry asked the others, "This is also a good practise for the caster to improve their aim and the speed of their spell casting.

The others nodded and they paired up, Zabini with Ginny and Neville with Greengrass, which left Harry with Hermione.

"You cast first," Hermione offered and they began. Already Harry's third spell hit home and Hermione was giggling uncontrollably from the tickling charm.

They switched and it was Hermione's turn to cast. Her aim was quite good but she cast at a slower pace than Zabini had and Harry was able to avoid being hexed for seven minutes. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead, as he restarted throwing hexes at Hermione, who was caught unaware and only crouched down in the last moment, almost getting hexed. She was still hesitant to move a lot. It was that hesitation that caused her to be hit a minute later. Frustrated she immediately turned the tables on Harry, casting voicelessly now, which enabled her to cast spell after spell in quick succession, no longer needing to pronounce each syllable of the respective spell carefully. After only five minutes Harry was hit by a powerful stinging hex. From his still crouching position Harry cast the first spell, which only barely missed Hermione. Harry jumped up and switched to casting voicelessly as well. Hermione was gasping, as she ducked, leapt to the side, crouched low and rolled. However, this time she lasted almost three minutes.

"Ok, lets stop for now. Lets have a look at how the others are doing," Harry suggested, still breathless.  
Zabini and Ginny and Greengrass and Neville were conducting themselves in a much tamer manner than Harry and Hermione had. Zabini moved stiffly and seemed reluctant to actually aim at Ginny, while both Neville and Greengrass appeared too calm spirited in nature to properly hex each other.

"I think we should switch partners for a bit. Hermione why don't you pair up with Zabini. Neville, care to pair up with me?" Harry called. Hermione had already walked up to Zabini and Neville came over to Harry, which left Ginny with Greengrass.

Zabini allowed Hermione to cast first, so she could catch her breath. Hermione began casting voicelessly at once, again without holding back, the way she had done with Harry before. Zabini barely succeeded to avoid the second hex by leaping to the side and by the fourth he was hit. He scowled. Obviously, it did not sit well with him to be bested by a muggleborn and a female at that. As he smoothly turned the tables on Hermione, spell after spell flew out of his wand, as Hermione successfully avoided being hit, till she hesitated a moment too long, attempting to catch her breath after five minutes of constant movement. Her face was red, her hair a tangled mess and her breath was coming in short pants. That did not prevent her from immediately turning the tables on Zabini however. Zabini looked fiercely determined to prove that he could do as well as Hermione and quite obviously pushed himself to his limits. He lasted three minutes, at the end of which he was panting. However, he did not seem discouraged by his meagre success, but even more determined to get the hang of it.

"Ok, now that we have warmed up a little, let's try to hit each other with stinging hexes, no shield charms," Harry said. Like this they had to combine dodging and casting, which seemed a good exercise for endurance as well as aim. After twenty minutes all of them were out of breath and it became exceedingly harder to concentrate.

"Let's have a break and discuss what spells we want to learn," Harry suggested. The others nodded.

"Let us retreat to Slytherin's study," he suggested and the others gaped at him, as Harry moved in front of the snake carving.

"Open," he hissed. The others gaped at the doorway that had revealed itself to them.  
Finally they were all seated around the black marble coffee table.

"Dobby," Harry called and a moment later Dobby popped in.

"Harry Potter," Dobby beamed brightly.

"Dobby, Get us some refreshments, please?" Harry asked.

"Right away, Harry Potter, right away," the elf squealed and popped away.

"So lets first sketch out a training plan. Any ideas?" Harry asked, when Dobby came back with large plates of sandwiches and pastries, a huge bowl of pumpkin juice and dishes floating around him.

"This is Slytherin's study? I've never heard rumours that a study was located inside the chamber," Greengrass said curiously. "Well, it has not been easy to find. Only after Dobby had renewed the main chamber did the carvings become visible.

"Oh Dobby, you've done a marvellous job," exclaimed Hermione and Dobby swelled with pride.

"Yeah, he did," Harry agreed, "Lets not get sidetracked though. Last year we

repeated the basic defence spells in the DA and then moved on to the Patronus Charm," he explained for Zabini and Greengrass, "Would you like to do some of that?" Can you cast a Patronus? I guess, some practise would do all of us good."

"We've never tried," the two Slytherins said cautiously.

"So we'll definitely work on our Patronuses," Harry nodded. "Ok what else?"

"Shield charms," suggested Greengrass.

"Offensive jinxes," added Ginny.

"Definitely, although the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort got me thinking. They were employing transfiguration in battle. We all are still young and don't have a lot of magic at our disposal, yet. I think, we should explore creative uses of less powerful spells." Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Using Mum's pruning charms in battle might get interesting results," Ginny said, "She uses them to sculpture the garden hedges. A lot of her everyday household charms might be frightfully effective as well." Harry scribbled down everything into his note book.

"Yes things like that!" he said excitedly. Hermione had a greenish tinge to her cheeks.

"Do any of you know any healing charms?" inquired Greengrass with a raised eyebrow.

"Episky," Hermione said.

"Well, that's a start, but wouldn't it be just as important to patch ourselves up as to harm our opponents?"

"Of course," Hermione exclaimed, "I'll look up and sort through useful healing spells to learn."

"You might as well just ask Daphne to teach all of us. She's really good at them." Zabini said, his jaw firmly set, as he stared Hermione down.

"That would be great! How come you know so many healing spells?" Harry asked her intrigued.

"I've always dreamt of becoming a healer," Greengrass said with a tiny smile, "I wouldn't mind doing some research after I've brought you up to par."

"Well, I'm sure healers will be on high demand once Voldemort gains strength," Harry said.

"I don't think this dream is likely to come true," Greengrass said sadly.

"Why?" asked Hermione astonished, "If you get the marks..."

"She'll marry before she can start an apprenticeship and how likely is it her husband's family would agree to have a wife that works as a healer? It's not a profession that holds a lot of power"

"That's... that's..." Hermione stuttered wide eyed.

"... the way it is." Greengrass said sadly.

"Well, I think healers are very valuable," Neville said and blushed. Zabini gave him a long calculating look and Greengrass offered one of her tiny smiles.

"Trust the noble Gyffindors to jump into battle without a proper idea about healing," Zabini shook his head. Harry looked at him. Healing spells would be useful. It seemed the Slytherins were much more pragmatic about this. They foremost wanted to ensure their own survival, which was very sensible, of course. However, it was not the typical heroic Gryffindor concept.

"Well, then it's good that we have some cunning Slytherins on our side that are out to save their own skin," Harry smiled at Zabini and Greengrass.

"That's a good thing?" Hermione mumbled doubtfully, obviously pondering whether or not Zabini and Greengrass would abandon them immediately to save themselves when they got into a tight spot.

"What good would it do, if we don't last long enough to make a difference. Besides, I am quite determined to live myself." Harry retorted. He thought it was very likely for the two Slytherins to switch sides and save their own skin at the last moment, but he figured they would also stay true to their aims and would attempt to undermine Voldemort's forces from within. It was not necessarily the most clever thing or even the right thing to die along side your allies, if your death made no difference at all.

Zabini gave a curt nod and Greengrass clasped her hands.

"So healing charms," she said, "I shall prepare something for our next meeting then."

"That would be great," Harry smiled in response.

"I'd like to introduce you to someone, by the way," Harry stood up and moved in front of the portrait of Slytherin, "May I introduce you to Salazar Slytherin?" Hermione squeaked in fright, her eyes darting wildly to the exit.

"Sir, this is Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, members of your house. Ginnevra Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor." Slytherin's eyes pierced each of them as they were introduced.

"It's an honour," Greengrass curtsied and Zabini bowed low, both of them seemed to work hard to contain their excitement.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," Neville said with a respectfully measured bow. Hermione and Ginny curtsied clumsily. Clearly they had never done so before in their entire life and they did not feel comfortable at all.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," responded Slytherin, his eyes still roaming expressionlessly over his guests, "You have finally brought me the company you promised." This was directed at Harry.

The Gryffindors eyed the supposedly dark Founder suspiciously. Hermione was hugging her arms and had raised her chin defiantly. Her whole posture stood in stark contrast to the Purebloods, who held their arms losely in front of themselves, keeping them visibly wandless and therefore indicating peaceful intentions. Hermione's very stance screamed muggle, while even Ginny had automatically gone along with the traditional pureblood etiquette.

"You must be Mr Potter's muggleborn friend." Slytherin had immediately puzzled it out. Hermione gulped nervously.

"Yes Sir,"

"Mr Potter tells me you're really knowledgeable and a very skilled witch," Slytherin quoted Harry, all the while watching Hermione carefully.

"That's kind of him," Hermione's voice quivered.

"Indeed, well now that all of you are here, you can give me an overview of the most recent developments in our world. Mr. Potter is always so busy."

"It would a pleasure," Greengrass smiled.

"The pleasure is all mine. It's been a while since a have last spoken to a lady," Slytherin answered.

"If you'd excuse me, I'd like to have a closer look at the carvings in the main chamber," Hermione said, obviously too nervous to remain in Slytherin's presence for much longer. Zabini followed her reluctantly.

"I am sure we will find the opportunity to talk later on," Slytherin inclined his head to both of them.  
Neville and Ginny stayed with Greengrass to converse with the portrait, or as Harry suspected to eavesdrop on Greengrass and Slytherin.

Harry seated himself on the couch and watched them for a couple of moments. Everything was speeding up so fast. At the moment his most urgent concern seemed a safe house. As long as Narcissa Malfoy was not safely hidden, he could not be sure of her son's loyalty.

Inspiration stuck. This idea had been buzzing at the edges of his mind for quite a while now but it had always slipped away whenever he tried to get a hold of it to examine it further and then he had always been preoccupied with one thing or another.

"Dobby," Harry called for the second time that day. As Dobby popped in Harry cast a privacy charm around them.

"Can you tell me more about house elf magic? Could you for example create a hiding place or several of them?"

"Dobby could!" exclaimed the elf happily and Harry beamed right back at him.

"That would be brilliant. Only I don't have a lot of land to built on as far as I know."

"Dobby knows!" The elf exclaimed, "it matters not. Dobby creates a place inside very little space."

"You can?" Harry was delighted. This might be the answer to a lot of his problems. "I knew house elves have very powerful magic at their disposal but I had no idea you could possibly do that."

"It is but imagination and an order for focus," Dobby looked excited at the prospect of such a demanding task. "House elves have once created Diagon Alley, inside a small space inside a wall."

"You could do that?" Harry was amazed.

"No," Dobby's ears dropped sadly. "It's long ago, house elves could do that. House elves losts strength since then. It has too many details. But Dobby could fit a nice house inside a matchbox."

"Who knows house elves can do that?" Harry asked. He had to seriously restrain himself, so that he would not start jumping up and down. Looking for that house would almost literally be like, looking for a needle in a haystack, especially, if nobody but him and Dobby knew the house actually was located inside a matchbox.

"It is no secret. Wizards don't want powerful house elves. They don't talk about it. We is their house elves." Harry took that to mean that wizards and witches were so busy feeling superior that they were blind to any but wizarding magic.

"How good are wizards at countering house elf magic?"

"It can usually be countered by a couple of powerful wizards. Wizards are not on the lookout for house elf magic.

"It simply slips their notice?" Harry was amazed. He remembered reading only recently that magic always left a trace, which made magically concealing a hiding place so very difficult.

"A good house elf is not to be seen," Dobby quoted and dropped his head, apparently ashamed with himself. Harry could only guess that Dobby had remembered that having a pleasant chat with a wizard was generally considered improper behaviour for a house elf. Wizards went out of their way to ignore the presence of their house elves who served them on a daily basis. So most wizards tended to generally filter out house elf magic.

"Could you keep an ear out, so I can call you during the Yule holidays at the latest?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Harry was elated to have been finally presented with an idea of how he could provide a truly safe place. He knew now that Dobby could create a house or a number of different houses inside very limited spaces. It was a start, far more than a start, but before he could put it to good use, he needed to ponder a lot of things.

For this to be truly safe, it would be best if as few people as possible knew or suspected that it was linked to house elf magic. Though Death Eaters with their superiority complex where unlikely to look for anything related to House elf magic.

Therefore, he needed to work out a way to conceal the true location of the place even from its inhabitants. Of course, the Fidelius Charm also came to mind, but if the secret could be worded in a way that was truthful and yet misleading, in a way that knowing the secret didn't aid in finding the place, it would only add further to the protection of the place. He only had to be sure that the wording of the secret did not give away that there was anything unusual about it.

Wording the secret, for instance, somewhere along the lines of "Harry Potter's safe house can be found inside the match box in Aunt Petunia's cookie jar" would make anyone suspicious.

Harry was almost wondering, if he had finally gone around the bend with his paranoia, but surely it was better to be safe than sorry. Constant Vigilance came to mind, although at times his eye had not seemed the only thing mad about Moody...

Although he had not worked out everything yet, he felt compelled to inform Malfoy of his progress. While he had calmed down somewhat after his immediate switch of alliances, Malfoy was getting edgy again. It was obvious and quite understandable really that he was constantly worrying about his mother and fearing that his change of alliances would be found out before his mother was safely hidden away.

So Harry had taken Malfoy to a deserted class room after dinner a week before the holidays. It was a large almost empty room with the odd broken chair and a couple of desks standing around. Heavy snow flakes passed by the grimy windows.

Malfoy looked out of the window. For someone so snarky and snotty, he looked incredibly fragile, vulnerable, on the brink of breaking. Harry itched to protect him, as he moved closer.

"I've got good news," Harry told him, leaning against the window sill, "I think, some time during the holidays the place will be safe for your mother to move in." Malfoy's eyes lit up then clouded over.

"Is it really safe? Hiding from the Dark Lord is deemed impossible!"

"It is safe," Harry said.

"Well?" Malfoy demanded and gazed at Harry imploringly.

"I can't tell you any more than this." !--  
"You don't seriously believe I will content to the little information you are offering! My mother's life is on the line." Malfoy hissed distrustfully and pinned Harry against the window.

"The more people know, the more information could be voluntarily or involuntarily extracted from them. Everybody will know as little as possible. It will involve the Fidelius Charm though," Harry panted, determined not to let anything slip. Malfoy scowled and then relaxed against him.

"Alright, it's probably for the best," he conceded, slipping a hand in between the folds of Harry's school robes, "So who will be the secret keeper?"

"Nobody, but the secret keeper will know," Harry said and thought that Dobby might be a very good choice. He was loyal, yet as a house elf hardly noticed by anyone on either side.

Harry also felt that Dobby would feel deeply honoured to be Harry's secret keeper. Malfoy grumbled displeased with the general lack of information. He would probably question Harry's sanity for even considering a house elf as secret keeper, which was all the more reassuring to Harry. Harry slipped his fingers through Malfoy's hair and decided to press on.

"We need to make a plan to get your mother away, ideally in a way that leaves everybody to guessing what has happened to her."

"I could meet her at the Three Broomsticks or something and then take a portkey to wherever this place is," Malfoy suggested his eyes set on Harry's mouth. Harry thought it over. Meeting up at Hogsmeade and kidnapping Narcissa Malfoy from there, had its merits, although he would prefer her disappearance to appear a little more confusing. Besides portkeys were ministry regulated, as well as the floo network.

"It would be better, if you were seen at Hogwarts at the time. Otherwise, Voldemort will immediately suspect your defection.

"We need to work out a way to contact each other over the holidays," Harry frowned then.

"The Protean Charm on your coins last year," Malfoy suggested.

"Good idea, I don't know how to perform the charm though. Hermione came up with the idea and provided the already charmed coins."

"I know how to perform the charm," Malfoy admitted grudgingly.

"Great, but maybe you could perform it on something with a larger surface? We will probably need to exchange longer messages."

"That is risky, much more easy to detect!"

"That is true. Do you know any charms that prevent others from reading it?"

"Of course! Don't you?"

"No, I haven't looked into that yet," Harry shrugged and Malfoy shook his head.

"Ts, how you think to defeat the Dark Lord is a mystery to me at times."

"I don't intend to do it all alone," Harry shrugged again, "And I am making progress." Malfoy gazed at him long and hard, then pushed himself into Harry.

"You shouldn't always rely on others to help you out," he snapped and nipped at Harry's neck. Harry encircled his waist with his arms and pulled Malfoy flush against him.

"Yeah, right."

He yanked Malfoy's face up and gave him a searing kiss, grasping strands of his hair to hold him in place; then eased up to kiss his neck more tenderly, slowly unfastening the clasps of his school robes. Malfoy's hands had once again disappeared under Harry's robes, creeping under his shirt, his fingers tracing bare skin.

Harry's breath hitched as Malfoy's lips were on his once more. It seemed that even now that they were working together, their rivalry had not stopped, but had merely found a far more pleasurable outlet. Even kissing never ceased to be a battle for dominance between them, adding an extra spice. It was, exciting, arousing, utterly intoxicating in a way kissing alone was not. What they were doing was so much more than kissing!

The thin fabric of Malfoy's pants felt rough to Harry's over sensitive fingers, as he fumbled with bottoms, until he could finally yank the cloth down, letting it pool around Malfoy ankles, alongside his robe, his boxer shorts soon following.

Malfoy impatiently discarded of Harry's remaining clothing as well, then his mouth latched onto Harry's chest, while his hands moved to grip his arse tightly, his nails digging into the flesh. Harry clutched his shoulders to steady himself.

Malfoy stepped away, unceremonously slipped off his shoes and stepped out of the tangled mess of clothing in one go.

Harry watched the expanses of pale flesh in front of him. He stepped up and languidly ran his hands over skinny arms, bony shoulders and a soft stomach, soft skin, equally soft flesh, only barely covering the bones.

Malfoy burrowed his face in Harry's neck and Harry's hand inched further downwards. Malfoy bit down harshly, almost painfully on Harry's neck and Harry sped up. Their movements became frantic again, as they started to move against each other, staring into each others eyes daringly, panting heavily. It wasn't long before they came, clinging to each other.

"This really isn't the place for this," Malfoy sniffed and Harry stifled a laugh. Malfoy had not seemed to have thought of that before.

However, Harry felt unpleasantly sweaty and the almost empty room did not put him into the mood to revel in the afterglow in blissful, oblivious contentment. He stepped away from Malfoy to lean against the window sill. His legs were shaking.

"What are your plans for muggles, by the way?" Malfoy wanted to know then, his arms crossed over his chest, as he stepped over to lean against the window as well.

It appeared the question had been nagging at him for quite a while. However, Harry was not sure, if he even understood the question.

"My plans for the muggles? I have no plans for muggles, other than enforcing the Statute of Secrecy," Harry blinked.

"I can see that integrating muggleborns into our society might have its merits, as distasteful as it is, but what about the muggles? I agree that killing all of them would be impossible and completely unnecessary, but shouldn't they be governed by wizards – for their own good – I mean?"

Malfoy sounded so condescending, full to the brim with twisted bigotry; it was sickening. Why did wizards hold so firmly onto their believes of superiority over everybody else, muggles, all other magical creatures? What the hell was their problem?!

"Wizards and muggles are far better off without each other. Wizards and muggles are equals, only they have a very different view on the world. Wizards are the minority here. Why should we have any influence on how they run their lives?"

"But muggles are born for servitude to wizards. It's what they crave. Don't they worship this guy who could transfigure water to wine? Don't they await his return to this day?" Malfoy said disdainfully. Harry stared at him incredulously.

For the muggle supremacists to turn common muggle beliefs into an argument for wizarding superiority over muggles was a genius strike of propaganda, Harry had to grudgingly admit. The whole concept was sickening and yet not that easy to dissolve, as there was a grain of truth in it. Three of the four muggle religions told of wonders that could be reasonably explained with magic.

Yet it was obvious that Malfoy was only parroting what he had heard so often before. While Malfoy had decided to switch sides and not to go along with mindless killing, he was still as much an infuriating git as he had always been.**  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**Today I've uploaded two knew chapters, chapter 22 and 23, to make up for the long wait! Chapter 24 should be up soon. A huge thank you to my beta HPAddictsAnonymous.**

* * *

**Chapter 23**

"I will be spending the holidays with Neville at Longbottom Estate," Harry informed the Headmaster.

"I'm afraid I can't allow this. It is not safe," Dumbledore retorted, "You can either spend the holidays at school or at the Burrow. It has already been arranged with Molly."

"You have no right to dictate my life like that!" Harry exclaimed hotly, his eyes blazing furiously.

Of course, he had expected the Headmaster to try something like that, but it still infuriated him to be proven right. Placing him at the Burrow would also give Dumbledore the opportunity to keep an eye on Harry from afar and with Harry distancing himself from Dumbledore the man probably did not want to let him out of sight.

"Technically, you need the permission of your guardians to leave school," Dumbledore said sternly, "So I'm afraid you will have to decline the Longbottoms' invitation."

"Yes, but it's a mere technicality, isn't it? Otherwise, it would not be possible for me to spend time at the burrow, neither. The Dursleys never gave their permission for me to go there."

"My dear boy, why are you making this so difficult? Arthur and Molly are already looking forward to your visit."

"You might have realized that I am no longer on speaking terms with their youngest son."

"It does no good to hold onto grudges. You might as well size your chance to reconcile with Mr. Weasley and you seem to still enjoy the company of Miss Weasley."

"They are his family and not mine. I would feel like intruding. I cannot trust Ron, until he has overcome his issues and he has yet to show any sign of remorse, so there won't be any reconciliation in the immediate future. Neville and his grandmother, however, would be delighted to have me over!"

"Well, that only leaves you staying at Hogwarts for the duration of the holidays." Dumbledore retorted with a calm twinkle that did nothing to hide his displeasure. Harry was trembling with rage, feeling horribly caged in.

"Well, I would like you to take this up with Mrs. Longbottom. I'm sure she would be delighted to hear your suggestions on how to improve the safety of her home!" Harry said coldly and yet he was feeling a little gleeful, imagining that conversation in his mind.

Mrs. Longbottom would make her displeasure known at the insinuation that her home was anything but safe. If Dumbledore had indeed any useful suggestions, Mrs. Longbottom would spare no costs implementing them, which was definitely a bonus. Then, Dumbledore could no longer voice any valid reasons as to why Harry could not spend the holidays with Neville instead of at the Burrow.

"Miss Weasley will be crestfallen that you won't spend Christmas with her," Dumbledore attempted to blackmail him.

"She already knows and she understands," Harry said curtly, "You have no legal say in where I may stay. You are my headmaster, not my guardian and I ask you to not over step your boundaries. I don't see you going to such lengths with any other students."

He needed to set his plans into motion over the holidays and for that he had to get out of Dumbledore's sight. Besides, he was really looking forward to spending the holidays at Longbottom Estate.

"Augusta Longbottom is not in the Order," Dumbledore stated.

"I know," Harry said. After all, this was one of the many reasons why he had chosen her as witness for his meeting with the minister.

"We cannot be sure of her alliances." Dumbledore explained. The nerve of that man!

"Neither am I a member of the Order." Harry pointed out.

Over the last couple of months his perception of the Order of the Phoenix had changed drastically. They were not making much of a difference as far as he could see and obviously Harry did not support their goals, apart from getting rid of Voldemort.

"Ah about that... I think we should make an exception for you. You should be able to join the Order soon," Dumbledore twinkled, as if he was giving Harry a special treat.

Having him as a member of the very organisation he was leading, would give Dumbledore a new measure of control over Harry, now that he was turning difficult.

"Err, no thank you, Sir," Harry frowned, "I'd rather not."

What he would have given for that invitation last year, even though Harry was sure that Dumbledore did not intend on telling him much more than he would have anyway, Order member or not.

"As for Mrs. Longbottom surely you are not implying that she is supporting Voldemort after having lost her only son and her daughter-in-law to Death Eaters?! I guess, part of the reason she is not partial to the Order is due to having lost two family members that were members of that very Order. The death rate of the Order is quite appalling, after all!" Harry could not resist that jibe, his fury boiling over and with it all the simmering frustration with the Headmaster that had built up for months now.

"And then has it ever crossed your mind that there might be people opposing Voldemort, who do not agree with your ideals? Mrs. Longbottom is very traditional when it comes to wizarding customs and she does not take kindly to your ideas of opening up our world to muggles." Harry ranted. He took a calming breath. It would not do to let his temper run wild, least of all, while in an argument with Dumbledore of all people!

"Oh Harry! Don't fall into that trap, my boy! Muggles are not evil," Dumbledore shook his head in a grandfatherly fashion, subjecting him to a very disheartened look.

Harry could help but feel an involuntary twinge of guilt, but the wild beast otherwise known as his temper was not that easily restrained this time.

"Of course, they aren't evil, just human. They are afraid of what they can't understand," Harry snapped impatiently. Sometimes, he wondered, whether some people made a sport of purposefully misunderstanding him. "I wish muggle raised children were more closely monitored before they went to Hogwarts. They should be given the choice to be raised in our world or at least be offered pre Hogwarts tutoring. Maybe today there wouldn't even be a Voldemort, if Tom Riddle had been raised by a wizarding family."

"I don't think, growing up with magic would have changed anything for Tom Riddle," Dumbledore retorted, "You grew up in the muggle world as well, very similarly to him and look at what a fine young man you have become!"

Harry snarled, feeling his rage freezing over, and attaining a very sharp edge. He shivered. Had Dumbledore purposefully placed him in an abusive muggle environment to prove to himself that Tom Riddle's turn to the Dark was not partly due to negligence on his, Dumbledore's part?

"Well," he drawled, "You've once said it's all about choices. However, I see no reason as to why a person should be pushed to make choices like that at such a young age! I certainly bear the mental scars, thank you very much! Why shove temptation done anyone's throat?! Tom Riddle might have made very different choices, if they had been presented to him less harshly!" Again, he had raised his voice and took outraged gulps of air.

"I am very sorry about your suffering, my boy, but it was the safest place for you to be at the time and still is," Dumbledore looked indeed sorry, although it also seemed that he felt proven right. Harry had not turned dark; despite wearing very similar scars to those Tom Riddle most have worn at his age.

"He might have been unbalanced due to all that inbreeding, but in a loving environment he might have very well turned out to be a very productive member of our society!" Harry growled, "He was certainly smart enough!" Dumbledore stared long and hard at him and then abruptly changed the subject.

"So how was your meeting with the minister," Harry stared at the man's purple robes with bright moving stars.

"Alright, I guess. Depends on what he makes of it, doesn't it," he answered evasively.

He did not feel up for this talk just yet, although it was only a question of time, when Harry would have to lay the cards on the table and he had given the Headmaster quite an opening to question his world views, when he had screamed what was on his mind at the top of his lungs.

"Ah yes. So it would seem," Dumbledore nodded, "So how are you getting on with the minister?"

"He is on his way to realize that he is much better off, going along with my ideas." Harry hedged.

He did not want to lie to Dumbledore. He wasn't even sure, whether one could lie to Dumbledore. However, he felt that Dumbledore would not react positively, when he learnt that Harry had taken steps to play an independent role in the war. Surely, Dumbledore expected Harry to stay in his shadow and to forever heed his advice. Dumbledore had a lot going for him, a lot of influence. His opposition could not be taken lightly and while he surely was not trustworthy, he was not the bad guy Harry had set out to defeat. It would not do to have Dumbledore as an enemy on top of everything else.

"I've been meaning to ask for a while: What are your ideas?" Dumbledore steepled his fingers and gazed attentively over the brim of his half moon glasses.

Apparently, the time for Harry to reveal himself at least partly to the headmaster had indeed come. It couldn't have been at a time worse than that, as he had yet to regain control of his temper and therefore might do something foolish and he had not yet laid out a plan on how to present this best to Dumbledore.

He suppressed his reflexive nervous fidgeting and straightened his shoulders instead, then paused for a moment, staring of into space to gather his thought and make up a planon the fly.

"I have a lot of ideas, though basically I don't believe muggles to be as harmless as they appear to a lot of people on our side. Even the dark side considers them dumb, which they are not. If the muggles ever acknowledge our existence it won't be pretty." Harry began slowly, still pondering on how to go about this.

"Oh Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore's expression turned grave, "You are still young. You shouldn't have to worry about that kind of things, yet. At your age one tends to see things very much in black and white." Harry snorted.

After all, Dumbledore was around four times his age and still he was thinking in that very same categories, still very young at mind indeed then. According to him Tom Riddle had been evil from the day he was born with no chance of changing, his fate set in stone even then. For a man who supposedly put so much importance on choices this was just odd.

Maybe the time had come to look into Dumbledore's past as well. Harry firmly believed that people were formed by their past experiences. Hopefully, he would understand the enigma the old man remained to him. He was certainly not the almost saint a lot of people made him out to be, but quite flawed indeed.

"I don't want to harm muggles. I don't even hate them or dislike them." At Dumbledore's mildly skeptic look he amended, "Alright I have no sympathies left for the Dursleys, but I am quite impartial to muggles in general. Err, I do like quite a few of their accomplishments. I just think that neither the muggle or the wizarding world are ready to be exposed to each other, presently."

"Think about how much good we could do!" Dumbledore tried to appeal to him, "We would be able to cure many of their fatal illnesses, improve the quality of their life, and further their overall well being!"

Harry sighed. While he did have a point – a magical cure for aids, for instance, sounded very appealing – for the most part it was but wizarding arrogance blazing through.

"The muggles cope quite well on their own. Both the muggle and the wizarding world come with their very own set of problems, which neither world could help the other to solve that much. Wizards nowadays don't have any knowledge of muggle culture, science and technology and the concept of magic is even stranger to muggles nowadays than it was in the Dark Ages. Adding magic to their way of life right now would be disastrous, cause a panic, maybe – most probably – starting a full-out world wide magical against muggle war."

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful, although he did not seem to consider anything muggle worth his attention, aside from muggle candies, of course.

"It would be not that difficult to incapacitate their weapons, my boy, but, of course, a conflict is not desirable, at all. We could ease into it and get the muggles slowly accustomed to magic," he sighed, his twinkle dimmed.

Harry groaned and related to Dumbledore what he knew about muggle weapons and recent wars, attempting to make him see reason, but somehow Dumbledore did not seem to listen.

"You worry too much, my dear boy. Even if they really could, they would not dare turning their own living space into wasteland." Harry sighed again.

The possible machination of a mass panic were not easy to relate to a man who had spend all or most of his life in the very confined British wizarding community and then once again staying firm in his belief that essentially people were good.

They were at an impasse, neither of them about to budge from their positions. Harry realized that they would have to agree to disagree on this matter for now. He could only hope that their relationship would not further deteriorate from there.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Trees and fields passing by were covered in thick snow. Harry was leaving Hogwarts to spend the Yule holidays with Neville and his grandmother. For the first time ever he would spend his time at a location of his own choosing. For others this was nothing out of the ordinary. For Harry however it was a valued taste of freedom.

Then the train lurched to a halt and Harry shifted his attention to the platform. A lot of parents were waiting for their children. Again, there was a clear division between the pureblood fraction and the muggle sympathisers.

The purebloods gave off an air of pride, dressed smartly in robes. Clearly those were not only members of the dark side. There was also Madame Bones, apparently waiting to pick up her niece, standing close to a pink faced woman, who bore a startling resemblance to Hannah Abbot and a man whose eccentric dress style gave him away as Luna's father. Then a little further a black woman of remarkable beauty was conversing with a pug nosed woman whose shrill voice could even be heard inside the train.

On the other side were order members and the parents of muggleborns and halfbloods. Most of them looked significantly more run down than the purebloods on the other side. Not even all of the wizards and witches were wearing robes but the very telling odd assortment of muggle garments.

One man stood rather out from that crowd. He was dressed in a grey suit, shining black leather shoes and a very fine wool coat. He was not mingling with any of the other parents but kept a noticeable distance, eying the assembled crowd disdainfully.Harry had never noticed this man before but then it was only recently that he had really started to pay attention. Who was that man?

Obviously he was a muggle, although he gave off the same off stuffed up importance as most purebloods. He gave off an air of power and influence that came with money.

What was he doing on the platform? Was he waiting to pick up his son or daughter? Harry had not been aware that a muggleborn from a well off family was currently attending Hogwarts.

As Harry hopped off the train he finally spotted Remus in the midst of order members and Mrs Longbottom close by. He grinned at Neville and stepping around groups of loudly chatting people they slowly meandered closer to Neville's grandmother.

"Mrs Longbottom," Harry shook her hand courteously, "Thank you for having me."

"None of that!" Mrs Longbottom said, "I'm glad you've accepted." Harry smiled, unsure how to respond.

"Hello, Mrs Weasley"

"Harry dear, wont you join us for Christmas? We'd all like to have you over, as well!" Mrs Weasley hugged him to her chest.

"I don't think Ron agrees with that. Well and I've already accepted the Longbottoms' invitation."

"Oh, Harry I'm sure they'd understand," Mrs Weasley said cajolingly.

"Mrs Weasley, I'm really looking forward to spending the holidays with Neville. This is not against you or your family. It's just that Ron and I are no longer friends and I've spend a lot of time with Neville lately."

Mrs Weasley grumbled and shot her youngest son a glare. Harry disentangled himself from her embrace and turned to Remus.

"Remus, how have you been?" He took a closer look at his father's only friend still around. His robes were tattered, patched and all in all threadbare, but even they could not hide how thin he had become. The lines on his face were more drawn out, as well.

Harry tentatively took a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder. His first impulse had been to simply tackle the man in a hug, but then he had not been sure, if the gesture would have been welcomed. He had had so few hugs in his life they did not come naturally to him. Remus looked down at him with his warm brown eyes, then at the hand on his arm. He ruffled Harry's hair and Harry grinned. It was not a hug, but it was something at least. Remus smiled tiredly at him.

Then Harry remembered his plans. During the holidays he would have to arrange a meeting with Remus and ideally with some of his werewolf acquaintances as well.

"Can we meet some time during the holidays? I'd like to talk to you," Harry asked urgently. It was for more reasons than his plans in the upcoming war that he wanted to talk to Remus. More importantly he longed for an adult he could confide in. Whether Remus could be that person, he had yet to find out.

"Well, Mr Lupin, why don't you come along right now?" Mrs Longbottom cut in, "Before the draught gives all of us a cold."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," Remus started.

"Nonsense, you won't. Come along, I insist!" Mrs Longbottom tucked on his sleeve. Harry beamed reassuringly at Remus, who had picked up Harry's trunk for him and the four headed for the archway separating them from the muggleworld.

"By Ginny, Mrs. Weasley," Harry called over his shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye he got another glance at the peculiar muggle from earlier. Terry Boot now stood beside him. He should have been able to figure it out sooner. The man had the same dark blond curls as Terry and the handsome features of his face bore a remarkable resemblance to those of his class mate.

Their similar looks however were astonishingly easy to overlook. Already their posture could not have been more different. Terry, like most Ravenclaws had slightly hunched shoulders, while his father held himself with a poised authority.

Harry moved to follow Mrs Longbottom and Neville. When they were out of earshot from everybody else, Mrs. Longbottom pulled a large ornate locket form beneath her robes.

"Hold on," she instructed, "We'll travel by family portkey." she said when everyone in their group had put a finger on the portkey. Then she pressed her finger to a sharp edge on the locket, mumbling something under her breath – a password maybe. This was followed by the usual lurch in the stomach as masses of swirling colours where surging past.

Only a moment later they had solid ground beneath their feet again. Curiously, Harry looked around. They were on a hill at the sea side. The biting air smelled salty.

"This way," Mrs Longbottom called.

Harry turned around and saw her walking in long poised strides towards a small grew castle, apparently built from the cliff stones around them. It looked truly ancient, rough and its appearance fit remarkably well with its owner's usual brisk attitude.

Harry moved to follow Mrs Longbottom on the small padded path leading through grass, heath and low shrubs up to the castle. So this was where Neville had grown up. It was special, lively, unyielding. Harry could only guess what this land, this castle – his home actually meant to him. Finally they entered through the wooden front door and Harry found himself once again inside the room where he had arrived via floo.

"Izzy, serve dinner for four in the dining room, please." Mrs Longbottom called, not bothering to look, whether the house elf was actually around to hear her order.

At a more sedate pace, they headed for the dining room. It was large enough but lacked any fancy clatter. The rough stone walls were adorned with many candles. Across the room an enormous window permitted a view into the green house. On the other side of the room a fire danced in the fireplace.

They had roast beef with baked potatoes and an assortment of vegetables for dinner. Harry dug in enthusiastically and saw Remus do the same. They spend dinner in blissful silence, so as not to spoil the meal.

After his last bite of hot chocolate pie, Harry felt contentedly relaxed. Remus thanked Mrs Longbottom profoundly and she offered him a small study to have his private talk with Harry. Then she left. Neville stared at Harry quizzically for a while.

"Well, err, I guess, you have much to catch up on. Just call for Izzy to show you to your rooms later. And I'll have some wine brought up."

"Thanks Neville, you're great!"

"Good night," Neville smiled shyly and then he left, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Remus looked attentively at him, waiting for him to speak. Harry cleared his throat. Where to begin. So much needed to be said; he'd rather get it out all at once, and yet he was reluctant to say anything at all.  
Nervously, he took a large gulp from his wine.

"So what have you been up to since we have met last time?" Harry finally asked.

"Order business mostly, going underground, can't tell you more than that."

"Would you keep what I tell you in confidence as secret as order business?" Harry asked boring his eyes into Remus'.

"It depends. It might be that the order needs to know. Surely you are aware that the Order has your best interest at heart?"

"Dumbledore has more on his mind than my best interests. He is preparing for a war." "... which I have come to understand is centred largely around you." Remus said. Harry nodded solemnly.

"Yes, but Dumbledore has to focus on the big picture. Surely, you can see that this might not always coincide with my best interests."

"Dumbledore is a good man." Remus defended him. Harry nodded.

"I don't say he isn't. I'm just saying that he might get too caught up in the big picture. Sacrifices have to be made in wars – for the big picture. It's not his place to decide which sacrifices I am to make."  
Remus nodded slowly.

"So I am asking you now, whether you will stand by me and look out for my best interests, or whether you are with Dumbledore." Harry leaned in close, looking earnestly at Remus, who looked pensive, but not for long.

"I'm a werewolf Harry. We stick to our friends to the end. You are James' son and Sirius' godson. That's all there is to it." he said fiercely, "I am with you, always have been." Harry grinned widely, then sobered.

"Why haven't I ever heard from you, when I grew up then?"

"I'm a werewolf, Harry. You wouldn't have needed a werewolf running lurking around."

"First and foremost, you are a gentle and caring man. I would have wanted, needed you around. I still need you! You're the only connection to my parents I have left!" Remus jumped up and hugged him, very gently, as if he might break. He was always so mindful of his strength. Harry felt his eyes tear up. As he looked up he saw tears running down Remus' face as well.

"After the war I went to live with some of my own kind. They took care of me," Remus said, watching Harry closely.

"So how are they faring now? I imagine it's awful with the ministry restrictions on one side and Voldemort on the other side," Harry asked. Remus seemed startled by Harry's easy acceptance.

"You don't think they are vicious supporters of You-know-who?"

"Of course not. You wouldn't have gone living with that kind of people. Voldemort doesn't have that much to offer to werewolves anyway, the way I see it. He only wants to use them as killing machines." Remus nodded.

"He's offering food, a place to stay in exchange. A lot of werewolves are desperate enough to accept."

"I can't say I blame them with the way the ministry has been acting." Harry paused. "But the laws on werewolves will soon be up for vote, again. I will publicly support that the restrictions will be lifted."

"How do you know they will be up for vote again?" Remus looked at him, as if he had grown a second head.

"I made sure of it. I guess the dark side would lose possible werewolf allies, if they were to vote in favour of the laws. It should work out." Harry shrugged. "I have already warned Scrimgour and I'm telling you now: I will give out wolfsbane potion to every werewolf taking an unbreakable vow to never attack a human being other than in self defence while under the potion." Remus looked more and more gobsmacked.

"They won't necessarily ally themselves to you," he pointed out carefully.

"I know," Harry nodded, "but they would no longer be of any use to Voldemort as werewolves and he wouldn't care for them as regular Death Eaters. I hope to keep them out of the war altogether by giving them an option. Of course, they'd be welcomed to join me but I don't feel comfortable with forcing anyone into an alliance. How could I trust them?"

"You know that right now you have already done more for werewolves than Dumbledore has ever accomplished?" Remus drew Harry into a bear hug.

"Will you introduce me to your friends? I'd like you to get the word around."

"This will be awfully expensive, Harry." Remus had sobered quickly.

"I will dedicate the Black fault to that. I think Sirius would approve and I couldn't spend his money for myself anyway. It wouldn't feel right." Remus looked uneasy. If the money would only benefit himself he would probably have refused, but apparently he could not deny his fellow werewolves the much needed aid. He nodded slowly.

"I guess he would."

"How does being a werewolf feel like?" Harry asked then.

"Werewolves are vicious in nature, Harry." Remus ventured carefully.

"And yet you are one the gentlest men I know." Harry retorted.

"I'm a dark creature, Harry." Remus shook his head.

"Then for you to be the way you are, you have to have even more goodness inside you than the average man," Harry argued.

"Harry, I have a very dark, violent streak that is very difficult to control!"

"But you do control it, Remus. Everybody has a dark side to overcome. Only as a werewolf you seem to be more aware of it. I have my own darkness to battle as well. Sometimes it's getting too much. I'm feeling things I shouldn't, thinking thoughts I shouldn't. It's scary."

"You are not dark, Harry. You are not acting on it."

"Exactly," Harry grinned and then he sighed, "I fear losing my restraint more than anything else." Remus looked at him with a deep understanding. They sipped their wine in silence. They were already halfway through the second bottle.

"You are growing up," Remus sighed.

"Someone once said, that growing up means being aware of one's dark side, but that to become a great wizard one has to accept that side as well."

"That is easier said than done, isn't it," Remus sighed, "So what have you been up to?"

"I can't tell you much right now," Harry said carefully, thinking of Malfoy and his mother. Seeing Remus dejected expression, he added, "It's not my secret to tell. I guess, I can tell you soon enough though."

"It's getting late. I should get going," Remus finally said and once again drew Harry into a hug.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

He was stumbling around, rushing through a thick fog. His heart was drumming fast. His hairs were standing on end, an unknown danger was lurking about. He knew he was dreaming but his fear was very real.

He was not one to run from danger – foolish Gryffindor tendencies - he had to get to the bottom of this. He wasn't even sure how he himself looked, he couldn't even see his own hands. The fog was too thick, would be impossible to distinguish friend from foe. He kept on running blindly.

Maybe he should find a mirror. What if he unwittingly killed himself while attempting to kill the monster, invading his dreams, simply because he didn't know who he was? Did he even have a body? He couldn't touch it. He ran faster and yet he didn't seem to get anywhere, he was running in circles. He needed to find a mirror, but he also dreaded what it would show him. Looking into the mirror was vital to his survival, so this was what he would do. He pushed himself further, anxiously determined.

He kept on running, filled with dread, dread weighing him down. Maybe he didn't find it, because he didn't want to, was too afraid. Maybe, there was no mirror!

Of course, there was a mirror; it was all in his mind, after all. So, if he said there was a mirror there was mirror, it only came down to will power. He was getting annoyed with himself, around the next corner would be a mirror, period!

The mirror didn't appear around the next corner, nor around the one after that. He couldn't wake up, sleep was keeping an iron grip on him. The only way to get out of this dream inside the maze of fog and walls was to find a mirror! Finally, he decided he wouldn't care what would stare back at him from the mirror, it had to be better than this.

In the far distance he saw something glitter, it had to be the mirror! He sprinted, so it would not disappear, again. Then he stood in front of the mirror. It was almost blind.

He squinted and could make out a pair of red eyes. How could red eyes look so cold? He walked closer. He had a thin mouth, no nose – my was he ugly – that thing in the mirror was smiling at him, sardonically, evilly.

"ARRRRRRRG" he screamed, but the voice was not his own.

Suddenly he was wide awake, remaining unmoving in his bed, his mind working furiously. Did he just have a vision? Was Voldemort sending him nightmares now? Somehow he didn't think Voldemort was responsible for this one. What did it mean?"

There was a dull ache in his head. Harry groaned and carefully opened his eyes. The sunlight streaming into the large window was far too bright. His tongue seemed to have grown fur. He was thirsty. Never again would he drink! Maybe that was it – he had been drunk. The dream had been merely caused by too much wine.

Cautiously, he sat up and felt the room spinning. Merlin, he was sick.

"Izzy," he croaked and the house elf popped up.

"What can Izzy do for Harry Potter, Sir?" The elf's voice was far too shrill. Harry winced.

"Could you get me a hangover potion?" The elf nodded and popped away only to return moments later with a small vial and a large bowl of water.

Harry grabbed the potion, uncorked it and then swallowed the sickly green liquid in one go. It tasted of rotten fish and salty. Harry shuddered but then the effect of the potion began to kick in. His head felt lighter, his stomach calmed and he felt all in all less cranky.

"Thanks," he smiled gratefully at the elf.

His stomach started to gurgle and grumble shortly after. He hurriedly dressed, so he could get down to breakfast. At the breakfast table Neville was already waiting.

"Uh, you haven't been waiting for me, have you?" Harry said, feeling guilty.

"I've already eaten a little. I'll just keep you company now," Neville shrugged.

"Thanks, " Harry grinned at him. Then his eyes widened as he took in the amount and variety of food on the table. He had always considered breakfast at the Weasley's a little over the top but compared to this it was nothing. But then Mrs Weasley had no house elves to help her at all.

The thought of house elves reminded him of Dobby. He would call him later that day. Hopefully, they could set up the safe house then.

"So how has your talk with Professor Lupin been going?" Neville interrupted his musings. Of course, he had known about Harry's plans for werewolves. It did not take a lot to guess that this was what they had talked about.

"He will contact some werewolf acquaintances of his. Hopefully, I will meet them some time during the holidays."

"Oh, that's great," Neville gulped. He looked earnest but probably did not feel comfortable with the idea of meeting up with a whole group of werewolves.

Harry could not really blame him, as he felt mightily uneasy as well. He had never met a werewolf other than Remus and had therefore no idea what to expect.

"Yeah," Harry stared glumly ahead.

Everything hinged on his trust in Remus to never willingly hurt him and to know his acquaintances well enough to estimate the danger correctly. He trusted Remus, needed to trust him, the last connection to his father and Sirius.

"Yeah," Harry repeated with a sigh. Then suddenly he felt the urge to tell Neville about the other things he and Remus had talked about as well.

"We talked about darkness," Harry wondered, whether Neville could relate to that but the expression of twisted wild hate on his face upon seeing Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries indicated that he would indeed intimately know about darkness, one more thing he and Neville had in common.

Neville looked at him attentively, but remained silent.

"How sometimes it gets too much, too strong, how it's an ongoing battle to not let it loose. About the fear that just once it will break from all restraints." Harry continued in fragmented whispers.

"That's how I feel about Bellatrix. Sometimes the thirst for revenge gets so strong" Neville shivered, "You know I'm more afraid of myself than of her, of the way I feel, the hatred, what I might end up doing."

Harry nodded. He knew exactly what he meant. How could he have ever thought that nobody could possibly relate to what he was feeling? That notion seemed to almost border on arrogance now.

"Yeah, that's how I feel about Voldemort and about Bellatrix as well, I guess," Harry whispered.

He was not the only one who suffered, who had to fight his own inner demons. Sometimes it seemed like the battle raging in himself was the hardest of all, it never ended, never stopped and always kept him on his toes. Strangely enough he had only recently become aware of it at all.

"I guess, a werewolf could relate to that better than most," Neville said thoughtfully after a while, "Well not all of them, there are those that don't resist their urges."

"Remember Remus' bogart though?" Harry asked. Neville shook his head.

"It was the full moon, or rather what the full moon did to him."

There was so much more to say and yet they silently piled food on their plates. It felt good to talk about it, to get it off his chest. However, Harry could not bring himself to reveal more than that. Admitting those things aloud made him feel raw inside. It made him feel exposed in a way that talking about brighter equally emotionally charged topics did not.

Harry was not used to opening up that much to anyone. Happiness he could share with everyone, his sorrows and sadness he could barely disclose to his closest friends, his darker emotions he usually kept safely hidden even from himself.

Neville frowned into his tea cup, as if it could disclose the meaning of the world to him, apparently unwilling to say anything further on that topic as well.

"I'd just wish I didn't feel that way. It makes me feel dirty, like she has even taken that from me, you know," Neville finally muttered.

"It feels as if they'd already won," Harry said and Neville only continued to stare intently at his tea cup. Harry then proceeded to viciously bite into his sausage.

"Well Voldemort is one sick bastard and I guess Bellatrix follows only marginally behind that." Harry shuddered. Voldemort had killed all of his last remaining relatives at barely sixteen in one day and a year after he had split his soul for the first time, one sick bastard indeed. But to be able to do that, well he had to have been severely mentally unhinged before, he knew that. Would a person with a less difficult upbringing and less traumatic events along the road than Harry or Neville have already have learned to hate so deeply?

Was he trailing Voldemort's path even now, only much slower - was he, at all? That, Harry realized, was what he was most afraid of. Of course, he did not really think so but still..."

"Yet the thirst for revenge... it just doesn't go away," Neville shuddered. "Had I had the chance at the Ministry, what would I have done to her, how I would have liked to make her pay. I'd still do."

"I kind of got my chance at that," Harry gulped. "I got a free shot at her. Crucio"

"Good on you," Neville said fiercely, his face transformed into a gleeful mask made of hate.

"Only it didn't work. I poured all my hate, the anger... everything I had into it and yet it didn't work." Neville gazed at Harry. Never before had he seen Neville's eyes so filled with emotion, conflicting without cancelling each other out. He usually was so calm and even tempered.

"Afterwards I just felt like once again she had gotten the better of me, because I had been acting like her! I guess, if I kill Voldemort for revenge, I'll just feel empty, not better. I know I'll probably end up killing him, if he doesn't get me first. I just don't want to want to kill him."

They silently finished breakfast after that. It was extremely awkward. Harry felt vulnerable, after their morbidly themed heart to heart. Neville didn't quite meet his eyes either. There was a reason why people did not make a habit out of chatting idly about these things.

"I'll need to floo Lawyer Greengrass," Harry finally said, his voice scratchy. Neville jumped up and nearly turned the chair over in his haste.

"Er, I'll leave you to that then, give you some privacy and all. Floo powder is on the mantle. Will you find the fireplace on your own?"

"Sure, thanks Neville," Harry turned and headed for the fireplace.


	26. Chapter 26

**Sorry for the long wait. I hope the new chapter makes up for it a little bit.**

**Thank you to HPAddictAnonymous who has made time in her rather busy schedule to beta my story. **

**Thanks for reviewing. I really enjoy getting some feedback on the plot. As for Luna being absent from the story - I have felt bad about that. She's great. Unfortunately I could not find a way to give her a purpose at this point in the story. I guess, I tend to be too focused on the main plot line to have her pop up on the side lines. However, Luna will play an important role later on in the story.**

**For those who have read the reviews and wondered how I ended up reviewing my own story - it was an accident.**

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** Chapter 26**

"Mr Potter," Lawyer Greengrass rose to sit on a low leather couch in front of the fire place.

"Lawyer Greengrass," Harry inclined his head and took in his surroundings. The fire light cast shadows that drew patterns on the green walls of the ancient looking study.

"I have gathered all your legal documentation," his lawyer announced, "We can go through it now, if you are so inclined."

"Yes please," Harry nodded.

"Come on in then," his lawyer pointed his wand at a small figurine above the fire place and then offered his hand to Harry.

He must have adapted the wards to allow Harry entry to his home. It was a good double safety measure; the figurine probably was a password triggered guardian, but even knowing the password wasn't likely to be of any use without the direct verbal invitation and the offered hand.

Harry managed to step out of the fire without stumbling and Lawyer Greengrass directed him towards a high backed arm chair in front of his large desk.

"Would you like a drink? Some tea perhaps?"

"Yes please," Harry smiled, searching for an appropriate topic for small talk, knowing it would be deemed rude to start discussing business right away. He was still not very good with small talk, as he always had too much on his mind to care much for it. He came up with a blank.

"My niece has told me that you have started meeting up with her at school," Lawyer Greengrass observed him carefully over his teacup.

"She's great," Harry nodded, "I've recently started meeting people from other houses."

"Slytherin house can get quite lonely in these dark times. Distrust within the house is running deep, more so than usual,"

"Slytherin is the house with the most diversity, politically speaking," Harry nodded. "The two front opposing lines of the upcoming war are running right through it."

"Very well observed," Lawyer Greengrass nodded approvingly, "Few stop long enough in their preconceived notions about houses to see that. And Then those prejudices are quite often confirmed by themselves. I sometimes wonder how many Slytherin's from my year at Hogwarts took the Dark Mark because they felt it was they only way they were likely to get some acceptance and make their place in the world," he sighed.

"However, now that you give Syltherins the benefit of the doubt the rift within the house will only run deeper."

"I trust that in the long run most will choose freedom over the allure of power in the service of the Dark Lord."

"You are a remarkable young man," Lawyer Greengrass' lips twitched.

"I do my best," Harry smirked and sipped his tea.

"Moving on to legal matters," the lawyer paused and continued as Harry remained silent, "I find the contents of your parents' will most unsettling." Harry's head snapped up and he fixed his lawyer with an inquiring stare.

"The Dursleys, your current legal guardians, were explicitly excluded from guardianship." Harry sucked in a breath.

"Dumbledore!" he grasped his wand more tightly, "that meddling old..." he couldn't even find a fitting word to describe the man, "What right has he got to subject me to their 'care'?"

"None at all," Lawyer Greengrass confirmed with a grim smile.

"Who have my parents mentioned as possible guardians?" Harry asked.

"Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Emiline Vance and Hestia Jones – in that order."

Harry jumped up and agitatedly paced the study. His lawyer leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap.

"Obviously, I'm never going back to the Dursleys, never mind Dumbledore's reasoning," Harry stated and his lawyer nodded.

"Who do you want to take on guardianship?" his lawyer had reverted to smooth professional tones.

"Remus Lupin," Harry answered without hesitation, "He'll probably need some convincing but in the end he can't refuse." Remus concerns about being an unfit guardian for Harry due to his lycanthropy were still valid, but Harry could mostly care for himself, always had anyway, and then he was at Hogwarts most of the time. He liked Remus and besides he could simply not afford to have a guardian inclined to put his or her nose into his affairs, preventing him from dealing with matters of the war as he saw fit.

"Alright we'll see what we can do," Lawyer Greengrass made a note in the heavy folder in front of him.

Harry was furious, raging mad – Dumbledore had acted directly and knowingly against his parents' wishes by placing him with the Dursleys. Before this summer he would have immediately stormed Dumbledore's office to vent his temper. Only he was not the same boy as he had been then.

His formerly infamous fits of rage had mainly stemmed from feeling helpless. Now he sought to fight those roots of his rage and his temper had gotten easier to control. He only had to plot very carefully what course of action would benefit him the most, so that the years of misery under the Dursleys roof had not been in vain.

Then it hit him; he would give the 'Daily Prophet' the exclusive interview they so fervently desired. It was time to reach the public in regards to his outlook on the war, tradition and muggles, anyway. However, this time he would have legal support, in order to prevent the "Daily Prophet" from twisting his words around.

Harry's own ideas would considerably blur the profile of the dark side, as far as politics went. (Maiming and killing your opponents were no form of politics in his books). Obviously, he would not be seriously considered an option at first, but eventually he would gain credibility.

"I'd like you to accompany me to the office of "The Daily Prophet", Harry announced, "I'm giving an interview."

"As you wish," his lawyer smirked, "Would you like to make a stop at Gringott's as well – in order to arrange the financial part of your foundations?"

"Yes please," Harry said excitedly. Finally, his plans were set into motion.

"Then I'll arrange the meeting with Gringott's first," the lawyer suggested and threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire place as Harry nodded his agreement, "Gringott's, Diagon Alley, Ragnok," he intoned clearly, putting his head into the green flames.

Goblins, Harry noted, were not very fond of windows. The room was only lit by a couple of torches on the rough stone walls. Ragnok sat on a throne like arm chair behind his desk. The furniture felt gaudy to Harry's eyes but the display of gems, gold and silver was probably an indication of the goblin's wealth and influence.

The "Guide for the Young Pureblood" mentioned goblins and their customs only in passing. They were considered beneath a wizard's notice and were only even mentioned at all because they guarded wizards' money and their actions or inaction could therefore have a very great impact on a wizard's life. The gist of the small passage on goblins was: "They are not to be trusted," which really did nothing to help Harry.

"Mr Potter, Lawyer Greengrass," the raspy voice of the goblin called, "How can I be off service to you today." Ragnok appeared ancient and yet his teeth were pointy as he welcomed Harry and his lawyer with a full fledged grin.

"Ragnok," Harry executed a carefully measured half bow.  
Surprise and then suspicion flickered across the goblin's face. While Harry knew nothing about goblin customs, Ragnok was probably more knowledgeable about wizarding customs than Harry, who by wizarding etiquette had treated the goblin as his equal.

"Mr Potter would like to open two trust funds," Lawyer Greengrass replied smoothly. Ragnok gestured for them to take a seat in front of his desk. Lawyer Greengrass began to briefly outline the terms for each fund and then took a parchment out of his folder and handed it over to Ragnok.

Ragnok looked it over, his sharp eyes flicking keenly over the spidery script. Then he lifted his head to pierce Harry with an impenetrable gaze, which Harry met determinedly, even if he felt slightly intimidated.

Finally Ragnok reached for an empty parchment and scribbled several inches in a very narrow script and then handed both drafts back to Harry's lawyer who checked them over and then nodded approvingly, passing both drafts to Harry.

The contract Lawyer Greengrass had crafted specified Harry's obligations as the donor of wolfsbane potion, as well as the obligations of a werewolf accepting the potion from Harry. The contract Ragnok had just drawn up, was the one between Harry and Gringott's.

Once again he would have to sign in blood, in order to validate the magically binding contract. Upon signing the contract the werewolf was obligated to enter into an Unbreakable Vow.

"On my life and magic, I hereby swear, never to attack a human, except in self defence, while under the influence of the wolfsbane potion." was the exact wording of the Vow to be.

Harry had wanted to restrict the werewolf's obligations to a bare minimum. This was not about forming or rather forcing political alliances, but about providing options for those without a choice, while hopefully keeping them out of the war altogether.

Contracts could not be taken lightly. There were cases where a witch or wizard was a slave to the contract, which forced them into a never ending chain of actions and inactions. Finally Harry took the blood quill from Ragnok and signed the contracts. He hardly felt the small cuts on his wrists as the blood quill drew his blood. However after each signature he felt a small weight settle on his shoulders, felt a little more restrained, felt restrictions settle into his magic, redefining his self until they would truly become a part of him.

With each werewolf entering the contract Harry would feel the weight shift, feel obligations be heaped on his shoulders. However, as this was a two sided contract, the weight would never squash Harry. The obligations between Harry and the werewolf equalled each other out. They would still be magically bound together by the contract, but it should not interfere with their daily lives.

The opening of the his trust fund for muggle raised children was much more straight forward, as the children were not entering into any obligations themselves. The arrangement was once again validated by Harry's blood signature.

When Harry felt that the contract had settled properly, he left Ragnok's office via floo to the office of the 'Daily Prophet'.

The editor of the 'Daily Prophet', a middle aged man, was all too eager to have an interview with 'the Harry Potter – the Chosen One'. His enthusiasm was only slightly hampered by Lawyer Greengrass' warning that slandering Harry's image by printing anything but Harry's actual statements could easily bankrupt the newspaper or even indebt the editor himself to Harry for his remaining life time. In the end he agreed to the terms laid down by lawyer Greengrass. Even an authentic interview with Harry Potter was bound to sell well after all.

When the interview was over, the editor was glassy eyed, his hands were trembling from excitement. This interview would provide the most startling news since Harry had survived the killing curse as a baby. It would shake the foundations the wizarding world had comfortably been built upon and around for centuries.

Of course, Harry had advertised his newly founded foundation for werewolves, but he had also talked about his own upbringing, introduced his plans for muggle raised magical children and he had expressed his honest compassion for the upbringing of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, who had had experiences with muggles very similar to his own, fifty years ago.

The name would only ring a bell with a few of Voldemort's supporters but it would irk Voldemort to no end. He had worked so hard to leave his muggle heritage behind only to have his enemy publish it in the paper, expressing his concerns no less.

The editor was very skilled in his business as he understood it – selling stories. The interview would be discussed everywhere and by everybody. People would demand follow up stories, researches on the topics mentioned in the interview. It was very likely that for weeks to come he could fill no less than three entire pages with reader's letters alone.

His fear on how You-know-who would react to the interview was easily pushed aside by greedy day dreams of incredible stories and equally incredible wealth.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27  
**  
The afternoon had Harry in a very good mood. His day so far had been a success. Neville appeared from his medium sized green house and grinned happily back at Harry. He took Harry on a tour around the grounds.

It had been snowing for some time now and the heath and low shrubs were covered in thick snow. Before Harry and Neville knew it they were engaged into a snow fight, which got more and more magical as they duplicated their snow balls. Harry cast a spell to push the snow together to a small hill, providing cover. Neville melted Harry's snow balls before they reached him but then they became too many and he was hit by several snow balls at once.

Their snowball fight soon turned into a duel, still using snow walls as cover, dodging, moving snow balls to intercept spells. Harry turned himself white and used Neville's momentary confusion to hit him with a tickling charm. After three hours in the snow they were red faced and happy, although their hair was frozen and they could hardly stand from exhaustion.

Back in the castle Neville showed Harry into a bathroom with a hot tub, large enough to swim in. The whole bathroom seemed to be inside a cave. They got rid of their soaking wet robes which they had not bothered to dry beforehand and jumped in.

The tub had several small benches, where they settled down comfortably after a few half hearted rounds of swimming. Harry proceeded to tell Neville about his day so far, his meeting with Lawyer Greengrass and the startling revelation that he should have never been send to the Dursleys. He had opened his trust funds and had finally ended up at the office of the Daily Prophet, giving an long over due interview about his world views.

"My day has not been nearly as busy as yours, of course," Neville grinned, "I worked in the greenhouse for a while. Then Gran had me have lunch with her." Neville unexpectedly turned beet red and stared uneasily at Harry's hair tips.

"Um, seems, she's been wondering, whether there is something going on between us," Neville blurted out after a while.

"Oh," Harry said, at a loss for words. Neville was a great friend but there was most certainly nothing going on between them. It had never even crossed his mind, nor did he think Neville felt that way about him.

"I told her no, of course," Neville said his gaze still fixed at Harry's head, "Now she's nagging me again, about finding someone suitable."

"Oh," Harry said again this time compassionately, "Are you interested in someone?" he added curiously. The whole conversation seemed slightly surreal to him.

"Err, kind of," Neville mumbled, his face still remarkably colourful.

"Who?" Harry pressed further.

"I'd rather not say yet," Neville said, "It's not you," he then added hastily.

"Alright then," Harry nodded and sank further into the water.

Dinner was once again a quiet affair. Only this time Harry thought he felt Mrs. Longbottom's speculating gaze on him, while he hungrily ate roast beef, vegetables, fish, treacle tart and any number of other different dishes.

Finally it was time to go to bed and he was immensely tired. However, his day was not over by a long shot. He had yet to help built a house and kidnap Narcissa Malfoy from her home.

"Dobby", he called. The elf immediately appeared with a pop. Last time Harry had seen the elf, he had only seemed healthier with rosy cheeks and his skin less wrinkled, but the physical changes had become far more pronounced now. Dobby seemed to have grown a bit. His hair was fuller and no longer grey.

"Harry Potter has called," Dobby gushed happily and put his arms shortly under Harry's bottom.

"Dobby," Harry grinned, "It's good to see you." He carded his fingers through Dobby's newly grown brown hair.

"You look good," he commented.

"It's using so much magic. Magic keeps elves alive." Dobby explained earnestly and Harry was happy that he actually helped his friend by requesting large feats of magic.

"I'm glad," Harry smiled, "So are you up to creating a house?" Harry asked.

"Always, Harry Potter," Dobby jumped excitedly up and down and Harry reflected on how childlike house elves actually were. They had so much imagination and it appeared that it worked because house elves had never lost their belief in the impossible – no that was not true – it simply did not cross their mind that something should be impossible. But then again they could channel the magic to make it true.

Harry had actually put a lot of thought into how to best hide the house and conceal the secret from everyone.

"Can you create a portable model of a couple of streets with ordinary looking houses?" Harry asked. Dobby nodded and squeezed his eyes together.

"Err, the houses don't need to have any details on the inside for now," Harry said, when Dobby did not move for several long minutes. The elf did not answer but snipped his fingers and in front of Harry appeared a detailed model of a small town resembling Hogsmeade. Harry figured that Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley were probably the only areas the elf was familiar with. Hogsmeade however did not look ordinary by muggle standards, but rather like a town still in the Middle Ages.

Harry made a couple of suggestions to make the houses fit somewhere into London. The majority of houses got brick walls; large trees concealed the view at the houses on the other side of the street. It would look suspicious, if there were no people seen on the street. One of the most important features of the whole model were the street signs, one of them reading Springfield Lane.

"Now this house," Harry pointed at a large brick house," Can you make this one into a real house?"

"It's no trouble, Harry Potter, large enough," Dobby squealed and snipped his fingers, "Would Harry Potter want to see?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, getting excited himself. As a child he had never had much time to play or any actual toys. While other kids his age had played with Lego and building houses, he had been scrubbing floors and pruning hedges. Building houses with Dobby however was so much more exciting than playing with Lego could ever be.

Dobby took Harry's arm and snapped his fingers. Together they vanished with a small pop. They were inside a house, whose size and design resembled Grimauld Place.

Together they went from room to room and with several finger snaps every room was coloured and furnished. Dobby seemed to be crackling with magic and had grown several more inches.

Finally Harry slummed slouched into an armchair in the suit he had Dobby create with Narcissa Malfoy in mind. The suit looked amazing, muted blue walls with an arched ceiling, dark wooden furniture, a bedroom with an en suite bathroom, a sitting area and a dining area.

His guest had to be fed as well and Harry doubted she knew her way around in a kitchen, even a wizarding one like Molly Weasely's. The best would be to have a house elf take care of her. However, he would feel bad to have Dobby be ordered around by his old Mistress. Besides Dobby looked no longer like a typical house elf. His looks would make everyone wonder and Harry was not about to disclose the secret of house elves' power any time soon, now that he had come to rely so much on it.

"Do you think Winky would like to work for me?" Harry asked Dobby.

"Yes, Winky is so ill, Winky is needing a family," Dobby exclaimed happily. Then his ears dropped slightly. "Is Dobby not working good enough?"

"You've done a marvellous job, but I want Narcissa Malfoy to live here and I thought you wouldn't be to happy taking care of her."

"Dobby is bringing Winky." Dobby popped away and returned with a slightly drunk Winky shortly after. Winky did not look healthy at all. She looked frail, her eyes were sunken in.

"Hello Winky," Harry greeted the elf. Winky silently gazed up at Harry.

"Would you like to work for me?" Harry asked.

"Is Harry Potter offering to bind Winky?" the elf became slightly more animated. Harry took a deep breathe.

"Yes, if that is what you wish?"

"It's Winky's greatest wish."

"Alright then," Harry sighed, "But I'd like us to be friends." Harry offered his hand, which Winky took shakily.

"Welcome to the house of Potter," Harry intoned and he felt a bond settle into his magic. Winky's shaking ceased. It seemed to have worked, although it was not the typical binding ceremony used to bind house elves to their master.

"What is Winky to do?" Winky asked.

"You are to care for Narcissa Malfoy, who will live in these rooms. Other than providing food and drink and cleaning the house you answer only to me. You don't have to take orders from anybody else," Harry explained. Winky nodded and Harry continued.

"I order you to take care of yourself. Stop drinking. Find yourself a nice room in the house. Clean yourself and dress properly."

"Yes, Master," Winky bowed.

"I would feel more comfortable, if you called me Harry," Harry said, knowing that it was probably futile to even suggest such a thing, but ordering Winky to call him Harry would defy the whole purpose.

"Yes, master Harry," Winky said and Harry left it at that. Winky popped away.

"Harry Potter is the greatest wizard ever," Dobby squealed adoringly.

"Thank you Dobby," Harry smiled tiredly, "Now we have to find a way to kidnap Narcissa Malfoy from her home. Can you get past the wards of Malfoy Manor?" Dobby nodded, his eyes large.

"Could you transport her back here with you – without being seen even by her – maybe make it look like a portkey?"

"Dobby can do that,"

"What would I do without you?" Harry said, "You're incredible. Fetch her wand for me, will you?"

Dobby nodded and popped away. Harry settled more comfortably into the arm chair and waited. This time it took longer for Dobby to get back and when Harry half feared that Dobby had been caught, the elf popped back in and Mrs. Malfoy landed on the love seat in front of Harry. Her wand lay on the coffee table between them.

Mrs Malfoy looked around wildly and paled upon seeing Harry.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said calmly.

"Potter," she said faintly. She had obviously seen her wand by now but probably figured that she could not reach it fast enough. Instead she settled primly into the love seat.

"I mean you no harm," Harry said. "I have abducted you from your home on behalf of your son."

"What have you done to him?"

"Your son has switched sides. He couldn't perform the task your master gave him. The fear of what would become of you, when – not if – he failed, was tearing him apart. We have come to an understanding since."

"Where is my son?" she asked, fear and fury had slipped past her icy mask and were now plainly etched into her face.

"At Hogwarts, of course. You will meet him soon. However, it would be best, if he is not suspected to have anything to do with your disappearance. It might take a couple of days before he can get away. I'm aware that you cannot even begin to trust me, before you and your son have talked."

"How have you kidnapped me from within the wards?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

"You don't need to know that," Harry stated simply. After all, he obviously could not trust Narcissa Malfoy either. Shortly after, he bid his, so far, unwilling guest good night, left the suit and had Dobby take him back to his room at Longbottom Estate, were he hid the model of the Streets with his new house at the bottom of his trunk. The Fidelius Charm was a task for another day.


	28. Chapter 28

**Today I have been able to post two new chapters. Comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks for Reviewing and a huge thank you to my hard working beta HPAddictsAnonymous.**

* * *

**Chapter 28  
**

Harry awoke late. The sunlight was streaming through the large windows of his bedroom at Longbottom Estate. Harry jumped out of bed and retrieved his fourth year transfiguration text book. He scrambled back into the large four poster bed and opened the book precisely at page 236. He pricked his finger and let a tiny drop of blood fall on the page. The writing in the middle of the page cleared and Harry picked his quill.

"Are you alone?" he wrote into the empty space. Now he had to wait for Malfoy to pick up his own fourth year transfiguration book and open it to the same page. This was the method of communication he and Malfoy had devised and which Malfoy had finally deemed safe enough, but only with the extra precaution of a blood trigger, complicated as it already was.

Magic involving blood was considered borderline dark, as it required giving away essence of life, but Harry had no qualms about sacrificing a drop of blood for safety, his own blood to be precise. After all it was all about intent, as Malfoy had recently explained to him and their intent was not malicious in any way.

Malfoy could really be quite inventive, when he put his mind to it. Harry guessed that it wouldn't take long for Malfoy to stumble upon his message. He was probably constantly checking for messages in his waking hours. Harry was proven right, when only twenty minutes later writing appeared in the book under Harry's message.

"I am now,"

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked, hoping Malfoy had been in the company of someone who could testify that Malfoy could not have been involved in the disappearance of his mother. Harry had decided against informing him of when he would abduct his mother, so he would not act suspiciously.

"Professor Snape held me up late, trying to find out on how I planned to fulfil my task, seemingly offering to help," came the reply.

"Perfect," Harry wrote back, "So you've got an alibi for the time around one?"

"An alibi? Why would I need one?"

"Your mother disappeared at that time. We couldn't have planned a better cover for you!""My mother is with you?" Malfoy's writing had become sloppy.

"Not right now. She is safe though," Harry wrote back.

"How is she? Where is she. How did you get her?"

"She's at my safe house. She's well, though she wasn't happy to see me. The whole story is hard to believe coming from my mouth, I guess. She'll want to talk to you."

"When can I see her?" Malfoy wrote.

"As soon as you can get away without being missed," Harry responded, "The Room of Requirement might be even able to mask your disappearance from the wards."

"Give me half an hour," Malfoy answered back in a hurried scrawl.

"A house elf will await you there," Harry wrote back and closed the book.

"Winky," he called then and the elf instantly appeared before his bed.

"Master Harry," Winky bowed. She looked far more presentable than the day before. She was clean, dressed in a grey tunic and her eyes were clear.

"Good morning Winky," Harry smiled, "Please inform Mrs Malfoy that her son and I will be visiting shortly. Then fetch Draco Malfoy from the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts to see his mother. Make it look like a portkey."

"Yes Master Harry," the elf once again bowed low before popping away. Harry felt rather uncomfortable with this submissive attitude but he guessed habits could not be changed over night. Winky at least seemed comfortable in her new role. Harry jumped out of bed once again, ran into his bathroom, wand in hand. He should have taken the time to learn a spell for brushing his teeth and shampooing his hair. As it was he had to hurry a lot, if he wanted to arrive in time.

Finally he cast several drying charms on himself and left the bathroom with a last look in the mirror. His hair was just hopeless, no use getting into that now. He sighed and selected thick green robes from the wardrobe. He was half way presentable and ready to go.

"Dobby," he called. Said elf appeared in a large pink tunic and a yellow knitted hat. His feet were covered in one red and one green sock. He was bouncing on his heels. The elf more than ever appeared to be on a constant sugar high, probably due to the amount of magic that was coursing through his quickly growing body.

"Hello Dobby," Harry grinned brightly, squinting at his friend's brightly coloured attire.

"Harry Potter has called Dobby," the elf squealed.

"Take me to Mrs Malfoy, please," Harry instructed, "Make it look like a portkey." Dobby pushed something soft into his hands and then snapped his fingers. Harry instantly reappeared at Mrs Malfoy's new rooms with a brightly coloured sock in his hand.

Harry guessed that Dobby's fondness for socks stemmed from being freed of servitude by that very item of clothing. The irony of Dobby handing him socks now did not escape him, although he was not sure this had been Dobby's intention. Dobby generally seemed to think that socks were the best thing ever. Unfortunately, they did not have quite the same liberating effect on Harry.

Narcissa Malfoy sat perched primly on the love seat in front of the fireplace, her back excruciatingly straight as she sipped from a small tea cup.

"Good morning Mrs Malfoy," Harry greeted cordially and settled into an arm chair.

"Mr Potter," she nodded stiffly at him, her mouth set into a thin line. She peered anxiously around herself and Harry mused that she would most likely have hexed him, had she had a wand. Being wandless, was probably the only reason why she had not attempted to attack him last night. She was too much of a Pureblood to revert to physical violence, he guessed, although he wisely chose not to comment on her expression of hostility.

"Your son should arrive at any moment now," he said instead, his voice neutral. Being overly friendly would only infuriate her further. Besides, he had still not quite forgiven her for the role she had played in Sirius' death and therefore did not feel overly friendly himself.

They waited in silence for another long five minutes. Then Malfoy popped in, a small tea cup in his hand. His hair was tussled. He did not seem to have slept at all. His eyes widened when he finally spotted his mother on the love seat. A grin was fighting to appear across his face, although only a quirk of his lips made it through."Mother," he said and he gently kissed the knuckles of her hand, while to Harry a bone crushing hug seemed to fit the situation much better. Harry wondered, whether Malfoy restrained himself for his sake, but then he thought that etiquette was probably so ingrained into him that he relied on it even more, in difficult situations. A hand kiss was not necessarily any less affectionate than a hug. Mrs Malfoy's features softened marginally, as she looked at her son and patted the spot next to her on the love seat.

"Draco"

Malfoy – Draco – with two Malfoy's in the same room surnames were simply too confusing – Maybe he should start to think of him as Draco. While they might not have reached the required amount of closeness to justify the use of first names, they had certainly surpassed the level of intimacy for the use of surnames to be still fitting.

Harry fought his blush. Now was definitely not the time to think about that, not with Malfoy's – Draco's mother in the room. He would have to suggest it to him, when they were alone. Alone. Damn his teenage hormones.

"Oh, son! What have you done, what have you been thinking?" Mrs Malfoy was saying, her wavering voice betraying her anxiety.

"You were right. I am no killer, mother. I couldn't do it!" Malfoy swallowed thickly.

"And you went to Mr Potter with this? I have never seen you do something so foolish! How can you think that a mere boy could protect us from his wrath."

"Who would you have me approach? He himself has succeeded to evade him so far," Draco defended his actions. Apparently, he did not intend to bring up that Harry had kind of caught him in the act, at least not now.

"I don't want the Dark Lord to win. I couldn't live with myself, if I were to help him. What would be left to live for. He only knows how to torture and threaten and kill. I'd rather take my chance with Potter. He is providing far better options," Draco added defiantly.

"You foolish, foolish boy," his mother exclaimed, "You will kill us all!"

"I can assure you, you are very safe here," Harry interjected, as he felt the discussion between mother and son was not getting any further, "And while contrary to popular belief my powers are nothing extraordinary, I have survived so far, as have my friends. Your son can do so as well. However, if you don't trust my abilities to keep you safe, you can always go to Dumbledore and ask for his protection.""No," both Malfoys said simultaneously.

"I don't trust him and his delusions of grandeur. His success rate at hiding someone is abysmal" Mrs Malfoy sneered frostily.

"Well," Draco drawled, "You claim to have no special powers and yet you have managed to abduct mother from inside the wards of Malfoy manor. Even if you have no special powers, you have something at least."

"Yeah," Harry snorted. He very much doubted any of the Malfoys would consider the knowledge of house elf's power worth of making a fuss over. Contrary to most Purebloods he had no trouble admitting that there were beings more powerful than wizards.

"Maybe, I have," Harry said thoughtfully.

"It should be impossible," Mrs Malfoy pierced him with an enquiring gaze. Harry only smirked - no way was he giving up his secret.

"Who knows about mother?" Draco asked, when he realized Harry would not say anything further on that topic.

"Only you and me," Harry answered and then added for the sake of being truthful, "and the house elves taking care of the house, of course."

"So only you and me," Draco waved his hand dismissively.

"Yes," Harry nodded, "Unfortunately, it would not be safe for her to leave the house. If she were to be seen... People on both sides will be looking for her." He looked at Mrs Malfoy.

"I have barely left my home for quite a while now," she said. She sounded resigned. Harry nodded at her.

"You said on both sides, like you belonged to neither..." Mrs Malfoy trailed of.

"I am my own man, the middle ground so to speak," Harry nodded.

"He's not like Dumbledore, Mother. He doesn't want us to mix with muggles..." Draco proceeded to tell his mother what Harry had told him about genetics, muggleborns, muggles and his goals in general. He got the main points across remarkably well from a wizarding point of view.

"Well, he seems to be indeed the best option," Mrs Malfoy finally sighed, eying Harry up and down, a calculating frown creasing her brows. It was very likely that she only said so because at least for her son there was no turning back, as he had already betrayed their Lord. Between Dumbledore and Harry Potter she probably only preferred Harry, because she thought a mere boy was easier to manipulate than the master manipulator that Dumbledore himself was.

"What do you know about Dumbledore?" Harry asked after they had sat in silence for a while. Narcissa had lived with people actively fighting Dumbledore. Surely, they had dug up all his dirty secrets to see what they could possibly use against him. Well he was sure Voldemort knew, but it was not like he could ask him.

"I'm sorry Mr Potter, but I go by the credo of, if you have nothing nice to say about somebody, don't say anything at all." Mrs Malfoy pursed her lips and then reached for her tea cup once again. "Actually, I was hoping to hear about the not so nice things, which in my circles are much harder to get wind of," Harry retorted, not believing for even a moment that she usually refrained from verbally shredding her opponents to pieces. She probably simply did not want to antagonize him.

"I've heard that the two of you are not as close as you once were," Mrs Malfoy peered at him.

"We have had our disagreements. I don't like him deciding which sacrifices I am to make, for the greater good, of course."

"Of course," Mrs Malfoy smiled thinly, "He seems to have not changed a lot from when he was young – for the greater good – everything he does has always been for the greater good." She sneered.

Harry leaned forward a bit more, waiting in anticipation for her to continue.

"Before the greater good had been a world of Purebloods ruling over muggles by force, now he wants us to mingle with them. All for the greater good."

"You are aware, that this was long before I was even born. Just rumours being told," she said and Harry nodded. Mrs Malfoy continued to tell Harry the story of the squib sister who had died under Albus Dumbledore's care, how he was rumoured to have killed her. Harry did not believe that part of the story even for a moment, something felt off there, but now he knew at least were to start digging to reveal the mystery that was Albus Dumbledore. Someone seemingly so light was bound to have some very dark spots. It was in the very nature of things as Harry had come to understand it recently.

During her narration Narcissa Malfoy had not once reverted to obscenities and yet her disgust for muggles and squibs, for any kind of imperfections, could not have been pronounced more clearly.

"Thank you," Harry said, frowning thoughtfully. Then he stood up.

"I should get back, or I will be missed." He turned to Draco, "You probably won't be missed for another hour yet. Ask for Winky when you want to get back," Harry nodded to both Malfoys and left through the door where he asked for Dobby to take him back to his rooms at Longbottom Estate.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Harry woke with a jolt as he suddenly realized that it was Yule that day. While he had made plenty of plans for the holidays, he had not spared the actual festivities more than a casual thought. Academically he knew that the Longbottoms did not celebrate Christmas but Yule in the oldest of Wizarding traditions. However, he had no clue what the celebrations included. In short he had no idea what to expect.

Harry rushed into the dinning room, where Neville and his grandmother were already seated around the large table.

"Good morning," Harry said.

"Good morning and seasonal greetings to you," his hosts chorused.

"Seasonal Greetings," Harry responded, at a loss of what was expected of him. "Pardon my ignorance but what is actually celebrated at Yule – and how?" He should have asked sooner. While from what he had gathered so far there were no deities involved with wizarding holidays, he had really no clue what they were all about. None of the books he had read, had explained that crucial little tidbit of information, assuming the reader already knew.

"We celebrate that light has conquered dark again," Neville volunteered and added upon seeing Harry's blank look, "The days are getting longer, again."

"Oh," Harry said, "So how are you celebrating Yule?"

"We perform the dance," Neville despairingly pinched his nose, when he realized that Harry did not know the term, "the dance that never ends..." Harry shook his head, embarrassed he knew so little.

On Beltane we celebrate blossoming life,

On Midsummer the fruits of life.

On Halloween we ponder death.

On Yule light has conquered dark,

And the wheel of life moves on,

In the dance that shall never end." Mrs Longbottom boomed from the other end of the table.

That did sound weird but straight forward enough to Harry, who was only glad he did not suddenly have to worship some kind of deity he had never even heard of before. He really should take his time to learn more about wizarding culture and customs, but with all that had been going on so far he doubted he would find the time.

"So in essence you celebrate the seasons?" Harry asked just to make sure he had got that right.

"Of course," Mrs. Longbottom harrumphed.

"So what is this dance?" Harry asked.

"Once upon a time," Mrs. Longbottom began, "there were huge gatherings of people participating in the dance, but while we celebrate the victory of light, we still live in dark times and the dances have become very sparely attended."

"We are going, of course," Neville added, "Can't let fear dictate our lives."

"Right," Harry nodded, wondering whether participating was brave or foolish and settled on foolishly brave. Harry felt slightly queasy. Participating in the dance – he could not dance! The Triwizard Yule ball had confirmed it and he had never even attempted to dance since then.

"I can't dance," Harry confessed therefore.

Mrs. Longbottom clucked her tongue disapprovingly but Neville soothed his fears a little.

"No worries, there's a spell. Everybody learns that way."

Finally, shortly before midnight they took the portkey to the Marchbank dance. Apparently, Yule celebrations started late and lasted till sun rise, when they would 'greet' the sun. They arrived in an ancient court yard outside a large circle of rough stone columns.

A couple of harps, fiddles and a bagpipe played a hopeful and yet vibrant tune into the night that the stones, the earth seemed to soak up. Harry distinctly felt that the place was ancient, the stones withered in memories of celebrations long past. Generations of wizards had repeated the same ceremonial actions and had gifted the location with a sense of its own, linking all present to something bigger, all encompassing. Harry did not quite understand what he felt and yet somewhere deep down he felt he had gleaned some universal truth.

Awed Harry followed Neville and Mrs. Longbottom to the edge of the circle where a short line had formed. Harry glanced around. The place was crowded with people in festive robes, chatting in small groups. He even recognized a few faces. There inside the circle stood Madame Bones, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and Ernie McMillan with several adults, who were probably relatives.

Further down he saw his lawyer with Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini and the beautiful black woman he had seen at King's Cross. There were several others clothed in green he had never seen before.

Then they had finally reached the front of the line.

"Seasonal Greetings," greeted an old witch, who Harry recognized as his examiner for the OWLs.

"Seasonal Greetings," they called back and shook hands.

"Glad you could join us this year, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Marchbank said. Her voice was scratchy with age and Harry remembered that she was probably older than Dumbledore even, as she had been his NEWT examiner.

"Thank you for having me," Harry replied earnestly. He stepped out of the line and followed Mrs. Longbottom who purposefully strode across the place towards the Greengrasses. A shout of "Seasonal greetings" and an exchange of hand shakes followed.

Lawyer Greengrass swiftly introduced Harry to the frail looking woman next to him – his wife – and another couple clad in green robes – Daphne's parents. It seemed the Greengrasses were wearing some kind of traditional family costumes, as upon a closer look he remarked that the silver stitching around the high collared V- neck line looked like grass straws.

The black woman right next to Blaise Zabini was his mother. While Blaise was a very good looking bloke, his mother's appearance was the very definition of perfection. She appeared no older than twenty, huge slanted black eyes, smooth equally black skin, shiny black curls cascading down her delicate back and yet while she was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen, her presence filled him with an unease he could not quite place. She seemed hollow.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Zabini," Harry stifled his weariness as he shook her soft hand.

Finally he settled next to his year mates. Neville was talking quietly to Daphne Greengrass, while Harry surveyed the groups spread across the place. A few couples had started to dance in the middle of the circle, while he felt Mrs. Zabini's eyes discreetly rest on himself.

"May I have this dance," Harry heard Neville mumble formally with only a slight nervous tremor in his voice. Harry did not hear Daphne's reply but shortly after the two of them headed towards the centre of the circle, Daphne's arm linked through Neville's.

Mrs. Longbottom eyed the couple keenly and Blaise had a calculating glint in his eyes.

"May I have this dance?" He gallantly held out his arm and Harry had no choice but to accept.

"Sure," Harry felt out of the loop and did not quite know whether to be grateful for the vibrant rhythm of the song or mourn the quick succession of steps, but soon he had to acknowledge that Zabini was a very accomplished dancer.

"So is Longbottom actually interested in Daphne?" Zabini quirked an enquiring eyebrow.

"Err," Harry said, thinking back to their conversation in the bath tub, "He wouldn't say, but he could very well be." Zabini smirked and the song ended.

"Seasonal Greetings," Susan and Ernie approached them and Ernie cajoled Harry into dancing with him. Unfortunately, Ernie danced as stiffly as he usually held himself, carefully minding the steps Harry did not know how to follow and soon he felt his legs start to hurt. A couple of times he only narrowly avoided landing on the floor with the guy, who Harry realized was wearing some kind of tartan robes. Finally the song ended and Harry politely excused himself by asking Susan for the next dance, who had previously danced with Zabini.

Susan's light blond hair was braided into a crown around her head, emphasizing the kind round features of her face.

"Will you start the DA again?" she smiled at him.

"I don't know. I've been very busy," Harry said and felt a burst of affection towards the plump girl whose eyes held almost unconditional trust in him.

"So I've heard," Susan's eyes sparkled. "My aunt told me that you're causing quite a stir in the ministry. I think it's brilliant what you do. I've had so much fun in the DA and I've learnt loads. Now I hardly see you anymore."

Harry frowned. He had meant to keep in touch with the DA members. He rather liked most of them but while he had been very busy through out the school year, there was no place to casually meet and chat for members of different houses.

After classes it was either the common rooms or the library. The common rooms did not admit members from other houses, at least not without heated arguments from house mates and in the library talking was prohibited.

"I guess, I should start a defense club again, shouldn't I," Harry finally said. He had planned to help as many people as possible to defend themselves, after all. He silently mused, whether he could cajole Dumbledore into providing a common room for members from different houses to meet in. It should not be too difficult to get his approval. Dumbledore was constantly promoting house unity. Surely, he would do everything to further it?

Dancing, Harry mused, was physically draining, at least to those not accustomed to the unfamiliar movements. They moved to the side were Ernie and Zabini were silently watching the dancing couples and were joined by Neville and Greengrass. Harry discreetly cast a drying charm on himself. His hair was a sticky mess against his forehead.

A house elf appeared with several steaming mugs besides them.

"To life and magic," they called and Harry asked the group as a whole what they thought of a meeting place for members of all houses within Hogwarts, while he sipped his hot mead.

"I think that is a wonderful idea," Greengrass smiled.

"You have my support in this," Ernie said.

"Fabulous," Susan grinned.

Then Ernie steered Harry towards the middle of the circle once again. Harry inwardly groaned but was able to snatch a dance with Greengrass next.

"So are you enjoying your first Yule?" she asked while Harry took care to avoid trampling her feet.

"Very much," Harry nodded, but Greengrass shook her head.

"You haven't seen anything yet."

"I have come up with a list of healing spells," she then said with a glint in her eyes.

"I appreciate your help," Harry said sincerely. Once again Harry was struck by the thought that he was not alone. Help came from unexpected places. He only had to keep an open mind and be accepting.

Finally, in the early twilight everyone took their places in the dance and Harry was taught the spell to help guide his steps in the organized chaos that was the dance. More musicians, mostly very old wizards and witches joined in with their instruments. Longing flute tunes joined the dissonant harps as Harry moved together with his year mates and their parents into the circle representing the wheel of life. They were to follow the twirling tunes of the bagpipe, he instinctively knew, as the whole circle slowly turned eastwards.

Young children apparently were to represent the arrow of love, older people moved in a spiral pattern weaving through the circle - symbolizing evil or more precisely darkness, decay and death. Dancing partners changed in swift succession, intertwining the three fractions of the dance, life warring with death, light battling dark, struck by the arrow of love.

Never before had Harry felt so much a part of a whole, of something bigger, as in that moment when he moved in acknowledgement of all those witches and wizards long gone, who had once held his place in the dance.

The earth, the stones seemed to be humming in sync with the growing delight while the spiral pattern was slowly soaked up by the circle and the children were rejoining their parents. Light had triumphed over dark again, when Harry raised his head to greet the first beams of the rising sun. An ecstatic grin lit up his exhausted features as the circle finally stopped. With a delighted whoop of joy they all raised their wands above their heads and send up sparks into the sky, letting them connect to a bright orb of pure light.

"To life and magic, to light,"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

It's an honour, Harry Potter," Dobby squealed, "Of course, Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secret. We house elves protects our families."

Harry had read up on the Fidelius charm, when he had researched wards at the Hogwarts library. He had meticulously copied the relevant information into his note book. Now in the early morning hours after the Yule celebrations, he was standing in Sirius' old room at Grimmauld Place, in front of the board of the miniature houses, once again checking his notes, determined to get it right.

It seemed almost overkill to further hide a hidden house no one even knew about, but taking extra precautions could not hurt. Draco Malfoy had taken a leap of faith when he had entrusted Harry with the safety of his mother. Now Harry had to do his part and prove that said faith was indeed well placed.

The procedure itself was quite straight forward, if based on a round about logic – on a secret hidden inside a single living soul. That said secret was indeed a place hidden inside a matchbox sized model of a house was even more mind boggling. Harry had his difficulties wrapping his mind around the concept. It sounded absurd. However, he felt this way of thinking was right up Dobby's league, whose imagination was far more vivid than his own.

He had gone over the procedure with Dobby once and Dobby did not seem to think anything odd about it, to him it seemed the most normal thing in the world which could only help strengthen the charm.

Harry took a deep breath and clasped Dobby's hand tightly in his left hand while he held his wand in his right hand. He drew his wand in a circular motion around the miniature house he intended to hide.

"Fidelius"

The borders around the small house on the board began to glow in a soft gold. The original charm required the caster to march full circle around the space that was to be hidden, while casting the charm at the beginning and then again when coming full circle. Harry had felt that defining the borders by encircling the area in a single wand movement would strengthen the charm and had thus allowed this small derivation from the book.

"Safety can be found at number nine Springfield Lane," he whispered into Dobby's ear.

"Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secret," Dobby intoned proudly and the golden glow seemed to seep into the miniature house, leaving an almost invisible sheen on it. Harry had successfully performed the Fidelius charm for the first time.

He carefully pushed the board into a drawer. Then Dobby took him back to his room at Longbottom Estate, where Harry crawled into bed, immensely tired but with the very satisfied feeling of having much accomplished.

When Harry woke up around noon, he realized that another crucial event lay ahead of him. This was the day he would meet Remus and his werewolf friends. He had really no idea what to expect and yet much depended on the outcome of that meeting.

He wanted to appear confident, not like a kid in over his head, which unfortunately was exactly how he felt. He was only sixteen – a kid set on doing what he felt had to be done. At that moment Harry would have gladly dropped the task into the capable hands of an adult, if only there were capable hands to drop anything into, broader shoulders to take on the burden he was carrying. However, there was no adult to even help him carry the burden.

Taking one last calming breathe Harry stepped into the Longbottom's dining room and concealed his insecurity as well as he could. Any minute now his guests would arrive by one use only portkey – courtesy of Mrs Longbottom.

Harry surveyed the flames in the fire place while he waited for his guests. Finally, a group of five arrived in front of the window, Remus with a young girl clutching his arm, large fearful eyes darting around and finally resting on Harry. In the centre of the clustered group stood a bulky man, dressed completely in black with short hair and an equally short full beard. Something about his posture told Harry to not let his guard slip around him.

"Harry," Remus smiled wearily and took a step forward. Harry strode across the room and drew Remus into a hug, while the others keenly watched their interactions.

"This is Craig," Remus introduced the intimidating man, Harry had noticed first. Craig's hand shake was almost painfully strong as he calmly held Harry's gaze, measuring him up. Then he thumped Harry on the shoulder, who nearly stumbled from the force behind it. Harry was used to Hagrid's bear hugs for years but he felt that this friendly slap on the back also contained a warning, a deliberate show of strength.

"This is Laura Benson," Remus went on with the introduction. Harry wondered why Remus had left out Craig's family name but gave Laura's full name. He shook hands with the gaunt faced woman, who also had extremely short hair. Luckily Laura's handshake was far more aloof.

"Elaine," Remus put an arm around the girl, whose dark curls covered most of her face. Harry noted that once again Remus had omitted the family name. She could not be much older than Harry himself, twenty at most, hardly part of the group until recently then. Elaine seemed to poise herself, straightened her back to shake hands.

Finally they settled around the dining table and Izzy brought drinks and sandwiches. Laura took out a battered looking box of muggle cigarettes. She took out a slightly crooked cigarette and lit it with her wand. She sighed contentedly. Her casualness stood in stark contrast to Elaine's poised perch on the dining chair.

Elaine seemed far too young to have been in the original group Remus had lived with after the first war. She had to have been a child. Had she been bitten as a child like Remus? Her stiff posture, her formal attitude told a different story. It indicated an upbringing in an upperclass pureblood household.

Craig was looking intently from Harry to Remus.

"I'm glad to finally make your acquaintance," Harry finally said, trying to conceal his nervousness and failing miserably.

"We've heard a lot about you over the last couple of years," Craig said with his deep rumbling voice.

"Not everything in the paper is always accurate," Harry squirmed uncomfortably.

"Remus talks a lot about you," Laura shrugged. Harry darted a smile at Remus.

"Remus has brought us the most intriguing news," Craig leaned forward a bit, "He told us you are offering Wolfsbane Potion at a low price." Harry handed a copy of the contract over to Craig who took his time to read it through. Meanwhile the ringing silence was stifling, while everybody tried to gauge Craig's reaction from his expressionless features. Finally he put the parchment down.

"Why are you doing this?" Craig asked guardedly. Harry felt his hair stand on end. This man was dangerous, definitely not one to cross. Meanwhile Laura had picked up the parchment.

"I want to give werewolves another option. I am aware that your options are rather limited so far."

"What's in it for you?" Laura lit another cigarette and tossed the contract back on the table, "Aside from getting a fuzzy feeling for feeling noble?"

"Werewolves who cannot attack humans with a clear mind are useless to Voldemort." Harry stated bluntly.

"So this is you exploiting our situation in order to gain allies?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

"Not necessarily," Harry shook his head, "Supporting werewolves is not exactly a good way of gaining alliances in the wizarding world." Laura snorted. Those people Harry finally concluded were not prone to mince words and would prefer solid honesty over sugar coated words.

"It is enough for me to know my actions keep Voldemort's support base small by offering werewolves an option." They did not seem to believe him. He sighed.

"What good would it do me to force anyone into an alliance? I'd never be able to trust an ally like that. I myself am dedicated to winning this war, mainly because I have no way out of the fight. I wish I had. Therefore, I'm offering you a way out. Of course, I wouldn't turn anyone both able and willing to fight down. However, with both armies kept small less blood would be spilled, less grieve caused, making reconstruction and reconciliation one hell of a lot easier after the war.

I don't know, whether I will actually live to celebrate victory, but if I survive I want to live in a world worth fighting for. The discrimination of non Purebloods is why we are on the brink of the third war in a century. If I survive, I don't want to put up with the same old prejudices, or I'll likely live to experience the fourth war in a little over a hundred years. If I die, I want to leave my mark on this world." Harry stubbornly raised his chin. His speech was met with incredulous silence.

"Harry, you're not going to die," Remus finally exclaimed, when Harry's rather impassioned speech had finally sunk in.

"You're but a kid," Craig said gruffly.

"I wish," Harry snorted, only slightly rankled. "Anyway, the potion is something you need and I can provide. Only I don't want to unwittingly nurture Voldemort's army – ergo the Unbreakable Vow. Who you support politically has no impact on the contract."

"How much will the potion be?" Laura asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I'm still haggling prices for ingredients and such. At first, I intended to give out the potion for free, but I was cautioned that I would run out of money pretty soon. I want to provide the potion to any werewolf willing to sign the contract for as long as possible. I wont deny the potion to anyone based on money, but it was suggested that I offer loans free of interest."

Zabini had given him a crash course on the subject of finances and had finally come up with the financial plan Harry had presented to his future clients now.

"Consumption of the Wolfsbane Potion wont get us any jobs," Laura said, "Prejudices run too deep,"

"That's not something I can do much about," Harry tousled his hair, "I'll see what I can do, if you give me a list at what you're good at. I'll ask around. For now you might want to look at manual work in the muggle world, badly paid, I know but it feeds you nonetheless."

"No one would hire Elaine or Laura for manual work." Craig pointed out.

"Right," Harry sighed, "I'll keep my eyes and ears open."

"Harry is only fifteen," Remus interjected scoldingly.

"You're not helping Remus," Harry said tiredly and then faced the room at large once again, his gaze

mostly trained on the commanding presence of Craig.

"The restrictions on werewolf rights shall be up for debate in the Wizengamot again soon. I'm positive their repeal shall get a majority."

"How do you know this?" Elaine spoke for the first time.

"I took it up with Minister Scrimgeour – among a couple of other things." Harry smirked quite pleased with himself. It seemed they were coming around.

"You're a kid," Laura shook her had in wonder.

"Yeah but what a kid," Remus fondly clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Hopefully, your kid soon," Harry grinned slyly.

"What?" Remus stared at him with wide eyes.

"My lawyer has unearthed my parents' will. The Dursleys were excluded from guardianship. I want you to become my guardian, Remus," Harry stated seemingly matter of factly but indeed he was extremely nervous.

"Harry, I'm a werewolf," Remus whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

"I know that," Harry nodded, "There's no one I'd rather have as my guardian. I trust you. Besides it's what my parents wanted as stated in their will."

"What better publicity could there possibly be than Harry Potter's guardian being a werewolf," Craig grinned.

"You have to accept," Laura implored. Harry felt that on both of their part publicity came only second place over concern for their friend. What exactly those concerns were Harry had no idea. Remus looked pained, sad and guilty. What did he have to feel guilty about? Remus stared into his lap.

"Remus I need you," Harry pleaded, "I can't stay with the Dursleys and I won't, no matter what. This is a small concession made to living instead of merely surviving on my part. I wont put up with their abuse for a minute longer." Remus' had snapped up at that.

"Abuse?" he whispered hoarsely.

"My Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs," Harry said and forged on, "Anyway, I can't let anyone have any measure of control over me, whose political agenda is too different from my own."

"I can't say no, can I," Remus sighed giving him a look that clearly suggested a long elaborate talk about his time with the Dursleys.

"Nope," Harry hugged Remus closely. He looked so burdened all of a sudden.

"You'll make a great guardian," Laura smiled reassuringly at Remus.

We'd better be off," Craig said and offered his hand to Harry. While he still felt the considerable strength of the man, he was exerting much more restraint this time around. Harry shook hands with Laura and Elaine, then drew Remus into another bear hug. Finally, his guests congregated around their return portkey and left. Harry sagged into a chair, feeling utterly drained.

Upon returning to Hogwarts he would have to approach Slughorn immediately, for Harry wanted him to brew the potion or at least supervise the brewing. Harry was well aware that Slughorn would not do anything for free or simply out of the dubious goodness of his heart, but Harry had not forgotten his pathetic plea for protection. Now that he had a safe house and a measure of creating more of them he could actually trade safety for Slughorn's services as a potions master.


	31. Chapter 31

**Sorry for the long wait. I have been extremely busy and somehow just could not get the chapters right. Once again, I am short of a beta and searching for a new one. Thank you to all of you who have been following this story and to those who gave it a try only recently. Tahnk you even more for your reviews!  
**

**Chapter 31**

On boxing day Harry finally received an owl from Hermione. She had been able to secure an appointment with the genealogist researching their ancestry. It was to be in two days at her parents' house. She suggested inviting Daphne and Blaise along, as unofficial witnesses to whatever the genealogist had actually found out and also – as Hermione had put it – in order to expose them to the general muggle life style.

Harry handed the parchment over to Neville, who read it with a frown.

"I would phrase her invitation a bit differently," Neville shook his head. "Although it might be a good idea to invite them along." Harry nodded slowly. The wording of her invitation did sound a little condescending, now that he thought about it.

Then Harry suddenly was in a world of pain, spreading from his scar all over his body to his very hair tips - everywhere. Sinking to the floor he coiled up, clutching his scar. He could not see, his vision blurred in a haze of pain. He arched up with a mangled cry, his fingers scratching the rough tiles of the stone floor, in an attempt to distract from the pain in his head. Bile rose from his stomach. So much pain. His fingers clawed at his pulsing scar. His throat felt raw from screaming. With a thud he went limp on the floor, dry heaving, sobbing, his screams dissolved to half moans half sobs.

Voldemort was furious, out of his mind. If only Harry could think. He was in no state of mind to even hope to somehow fend him off, although Voldemort was not focused on him, not even attempting to gain entry into Harry's mind. The pain was unbearable. Would it ever stop, ever dim? Harry started twisting again, having hardly the strength to move at all. Not moving was impossible either.

"Harry! Harry, what's up?" he heard Neville call.

"Volde – mort – furious," Harry wheezed. He felt Neville squeeze his hand. His skin hurt.

"I'm here, Harry, I'm here. Numbing Potion? Anything I can do?"

This was Neville. Always there, always loyal, such a great friend. Harry felt the pain dull slightly.

"Just stay with me?" he mumbled and felt Neville awkwardly pet his hair.

"Sure thing Harry. I'll stay with you."

The pain was still too much to bear but it seemed almost as if a wall had shakingly built itself between Harry and the pain or Harry and the scar, he wasn't quite sure. It was still there but muted.

Harry felt his head be carefully lifted and then gently put down onto something soft.

"Thanks," Harry whispered.

Slowly he became aware of his body again. It was no longer only defined by pain. He was drenched in cold sweat, his cheeks burned with the salty tears still running down his face. drool was dripping from his chin. Apparently, he had bit his lip rather hard, going by the sweet metallic taste in his mouth, it's smell mingling with the stench of bile caking his robes. Still sniffling he could not prevent the cough from breaking free, tearing at his raw throat, agonizing his taut muscles. He moaned and closed his eyes.

When Harry woke up next it was dark outside. He was in his bed at Longbottom Estate and perched to the edge of his bed lay Neville, still fully clothed. He must have fallen asleep, while watching over Harry. Harry smiled fondly and then cast a quick tempus charm, informing him that it was eight o'clock. He had been passed out for a whole day and that just because Voldemort had had a bad day.

He could not afford to have that happen whenever Voldemort did not get his way, as he hoped to spoil his plans quite often and consequently Voldemort would be having fits very often as well. That thought made going back to sleep impossible.

He got up very slowly, then rummaged through his trunk, retrieved his fourth year transfiguration textbook and padded into his bathroom in anticipation of a long soak in the tub. Cleaning charms were all well and good, but nothing could beat the comfort of a real bath. He sighed contently, when he slipped into the hot foam.

What had made Voldemort so mad? Voldemort mad could only mean something was going right, right? If only it had not hurt so much. Had Voldemort heard about Mrs. Malfoy's disappearance, was this what had him in such a fit of rage? Had he read Harry's interview? Was it something else entirely?

Finally, Harry reached for his book, opened it to page 236, pricked his finger and squeezed a drop on the page. Maybe Malfoy – Draco - could shed any light on the issue of Voldemort's rage. Of course, he was also curious how Narcissa Malfoy had reacted to the whole situation after Harry had left, although it was most unlikely he would get to hear much about that.

"Hey," he wrote and waited. He did not have to wait long.

"Finally," Harry snorted. He could almost hear the drawl in the script.

"Do you have any idea why Voldemort might have had a temper tanturm yesterday? Have you been informed of your mother's disappearance?" Harry wrote.

"How would _you_ know whether or not the Dark Lord was mad?"

"My scar hurt," Harry replied curtly.

"No one has said anything about mother yet." Malfoy's scrawled answer read, "Your interview should have been more than enough to make him raging mad, though."

"So it's been in the paper yesterday?" Harry was glad. Over the holidays families and friends were coming together. They would discuss it among themselves, which in itself would be already a success. Members of the wizarding world needed to finally start talking again, discussing the controversial topics that was holding their society in stagnation for so long.

"You didn't know?"

"Sorry, I didn't get around to read the paper." Harry explained. He did not like to clue Malfoy in on the fact that he shared such a strong mental connection with Voldemort. It would be considered a weakness and while Harry thought so as well, he was not nearly as afraid of Voldemort as most people.

"Shouldn't your mother be missed already though?" Harry wrote.

"They should have realized she has gone missing by now. My aunt was supposed to look after her."

Harry shuddered. Bellatrix looking after anyone was a scary idea, but if she was made responsible for her sister's disappearance – he had not known how much trouble he could really stir up among the Death Eaters simply by hiding Draco's mother.

"They might believe your mother is on the run. With her no longer under his control, he can't threaten you as effectively any longer. They might not want you to find out."

"True," came the reply. Harry wondered what Voldemort made of her disappearance. Did he believe she had run away on her own, did he suspect accomplices - or even put the blame on his own followers? Either way a person gone missing from his own stronghold was a sign of weakness. Voldemort would be weary and even more suspicious of those around him than usual and therefore harsher in his treatment as well, especially since he could not possibly know what really had happened.

"Sooner or later someone will let something slip. Then I can finally stop the charade and publically ally myself with you."

Harry stared at the neat penmannship in his transfiguration book. He had thought Malfoy would not want to publically switch sides when there was still a possiblity that Voldemort believed in Draco's loyalty. He had always perceived Malfoy as quite cowardly.

"Why would you want to do that?" Harry asked and wondered, wether Malfoy would be interrogated, in order to find out wether he had been in contact with his mother.

"My mother is save now and I'd rather become a prominent force on your side now." Malfoy explained. "And if it seems that I have switched sides as a reaction to her disappearance, mother will be even better protected."

Of course, Malfoy was already entering his next quest for power - Slytherins and their power games, but Harry could not say he would mind Malfoy having a prominent position as his ally, as it would benefit him as well. Besides he rather liked the idea of being able to meet Malfoy in public.

This promised to be a good day, Harry thought, after he had stepped out of the tub, feeling refreshed. In anticipation of what lay ahead he dressed in muggle clothes. He got to meet the genealogist, who could hopefully help confirm his suspicion that muggleborns were descendants from a possibly long line of squibs. What better way to confuse the prejudices of the 'Purebloods'.

Obviously, they would not listen to a word Harry said. They would refuse to believe him, but the seeds of doubt would be planted inside their minds, growing with the discord of the population as open war would be knocking down their doors.

Daphne and Blaise arrived shortly after. They were not dressed in robes but in what Harry guessed they deemed appropriate muggle attire. Blaise was dressed in a rather outdated black Sunday suit and Daphne wore a high collared dress that was probably fashionable in the beginning of the century and made her look like a Victorian governess.

They had opted to floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then taking the train to Bristol. Arriving the muggle way seemed far more inconspicuous than hailing the Knight bus to directly take them to Hermione's. Upon leaving the pub Harry noted that he seemed to be the only one among them to feel at ease in the muggle world.

Neville and Blaise flanked Daphne, while Harry took the lead, guiding them through the heavy traffic of beeping cars. The muggle life style was far more noisy than the secluded wizarding areas. Already the cheer number of people rushing past had to appear overwhelming to his three companions.

Blaise visibly made an afford to stay aloof but it was obvious that he was as weary as Neville and Daphne, which was why Harry hailed a cab to King's Cross instead of taking the tube as he had originally planned. Walking through muggle London with those three almost felt as exotic as a field trip through the rain forest. Finally the Inter City moved out of the station and the group relaxed slightly.

"You might enjoy talking to Hermione's parents," Harry suggested to Daphne, "They're the muggle equivalent to our healers. Muggles have come very far with healing, although they follow an entirely different concept." Daphne looked doubtful but nodded politely.

"You've remembered," she then said softly.

"I think it's a very worthy ambition," Harry grinned and Daphne smiled in acknowledgement as a brief look of understanding passed between them.

"Why do you think learning about muggle healing could help her?" Blaise asked with a restrained sneer.

"Muggle sciences are generally based on an understanding of what is happening and why. Going with that concept might open up a whole new avenue to magical healing, don't you think?" Harry said earnestly.

The train ride took only one and half an hour, which was predictably uneventful. Harry led the group to another taxi, which took them to Hermione's place on the outskirts of Bristol. The Grangers lived in a middle sized house with a small garden.

The three Purebloods looked around curiously as they stepped on the porch, until Harry rang the bell, which resonnated shrilly inside the hose. They were greeted warmly by Hermione's parents and let into a cosy living room lined with large bookcases.

Harry had only ever met Hermione's parents at King's Cross and then only long enough to say hello. All in all he had never exchanged more than a couple of dozen words with them over the years. However, they seemed nice enough, an ordinary middle aged couple – perfectly normal – even by the Dursleys' standards, although the Grangers were definitely more normal than the Dursleys could ever be.

Mr Granger was a lanky man with a thin nose, clad in a knitted dark blue pullover and slightly baggy jeans. Hermione had definitely inherited her frizzy hair from her mother as well as her outspoken personality.

"It is nice to finally get to know some of Hermione's school mates," Mrs Granger said, "Of course, we've heard a lot about you over the years, Harry."

Harry grinned and Mrs. Granger continued.

"We should have researched our ancestry right when Hermione got her Hogwarts letter. It was ever so puzzling to suddenly have a witch in the family. If there had been a – squib – it is, isn't it -" she looked at Hermione for confirmation, who nodded, "it would make a lot more sense, as magic usually seems to be inherited among wizarding families, right?" Obviously, Mrs Granger was the talkative one of the couple.

"That's what we thought as well," Harry nodded, while he watched his friends look around the living room in fascination.

The meeting with the genealogist was set for three o' clock, which meant they still had a couple of hours to get better acquainted. After a drawn out and rather stilted conversation about nothing, mostly between Harry and the Grangers, Daphne inquired about muggle healing methods and soon Hermione's parents and Daphne were excitedly firing questions back and forth. From time to time one of the Grangers would jump up, take a book from a shelf and point out something to Daphne.

It seemed the Grangers were very interested in magical healing and Daphne was visibly warming to the topic of muggle healing, although the Grangers and Daphne both appeared to consider their own method the only truly reliable so far.

Hermione listened with avid attention but it was obvious that she was as out of the loop as Harry himself. Finally she took them on a tour around her home, introducing Blaise and Neville to computers and the internet, who finally admitted that some muggle inventions were great accomplishments or should not be possible without magic, according to Blaise, but then Blaise had to concede that a magical equivalent to computers did not excist - yet. There was a scheming glint in his eyes and Harry had the suspicion that Blaise had wittered a great business opportunity.

When they returned to the living room shortly before three o'clock, books were piled high on the table.

"I'll put those into a bag for you, dear," Mrs Granger gushed, "Remember to write, if any questions come up."

"Thank you. That's so kind of you," Daphne had a passionate glint in her eyes. For someone, whose ambition was to make herself a name as a healer, an understanding of muggle healing might prove a gold mine and Daphne seemed to have realized that as well.

At three sharp the doorbell rang. The genealogist was a middle aged woman with a thick folder under her arm.

"Miss Granger," she said when she had settled into an armchair, "I have lost all trace of your ancestry on your mother's side only three generations back. Moraig Mc Gonnagal and Brian Mc Connel are registered as the parents of Bridget Mc Connel, who later on became your great grandmother. However, there is no birth certificate for a Moraig Mc Gonnagal." She passed the folder to Hermione, who gasped upon hearing her teacher's family name.

"It is quite rare to lose the trail so few generations back but the same happened with Mr Potter. I could only trace the ancestry of your mother four generations back to Adriana Black, who married William Evans and gave the names of Hesper Gamp and Sirius Black as her parents in the marriage certificate. However, with her parents I have once again met a dead end. William Evans I could trace back to the 15th century though. His father..."

Harry could barely conceal his excitement. He had asked for the families that had married into the Evans family to be traced back as far as possible as well and would most assuredly pay a hefty price for the thick folder resting now on his legs. However, it was well worth it. Now if they could only prove that having a magical ancestry was not an exception but the norm for muggleborns.

He would approach all muggleborn students at Hogwarts and ask for their permission to have their ancestry researched.

"Black?" Harry exclaimed when the genealogist had taken her leave, "I'm somehow related to Sirius! I'll have to check on the tapestry."

"A child usually only turns up on the family tapestry after they have shown their first sign of magic," Daphne said.

"Mine was not on there till I was eight," Neville blushed.

"As if a non magical child has no right to be a part of the family!" Hermione was furious.

"A squib would usually be set up to live in the muggle world. Most families would find their child a foster family. They'd fit better with muggles than wizards," Blaise shrugged,"The more fanatic families simply killed the squibs in their family at the time they should have reveived their Hogwarts letter. For a _Black_ to have turned up in the muggle world... maybe she ran away."


	32. Chapter 32

**T****hanks for reviewing! **

**Whether other muggleborns are descendants from squibs, and who their closest living relatives are will be revealed soon. I've had a lot of fun coming up with those, based on similarities between the characters. So take a guess, if you like. Of course, not all of them will have relations at Hogwarts.**

**As for Harry living with the Tonks', I think, Harry has come to value his independence too much for that. He has never had the experience of a caring adult, telling him what to do and now he's almost grown up. However, it will be interesting how the remaining Blacks will deal with their relation. After all, Narcissa is a Black as well.**

**Chapter 32**

On his last day of the holidays Harry flooed the twins after they had closed their shop.

"Long time no see," the twins chorused, when Harry stumbled out of their fire place. They dragged him over to their sitting area, pushed him into a arm chair and summoned a couple of glasses and a bottle of fire whisky.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry said guiltily, "I couldn't have come for the holidays now that Ron and I no longer get along ..."

"Ronnikins could use a good arse kicking." George interrupted what would have turned into a rather long winded apology.

"Then again he is a wonderful tester for new products," Fred added,

"Right you are, although he did not seem to enjoy it as much as we did." George nodded sagely.

"Right," Harry grinned.

"So what can we do for our honorary brother and esteemed business partner?" Fred asked.

"The battle at the Ministry got me thinking, " Harry said, "It seemed odd that no one was wearing any body armour. It would be a real advantage in battle and I thought that kind of thing would be right up your league."

"Now that's something we've looked into, when we developed our shield hats. Armours, unfortunately have to be custom made."George explained.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"It's extremely personal. There's a charm, of course, but it relies heavily on the caring and affection others feel for you, which would traditionally be woven into your armour." Fred said.

"How?" Harry asked truly puzzled. While he did recognize the value of those sentiments, they were still not tangible.

"Those who wish to protect you from harm, would give you an appropriate token of their affection, a lock of hair, a drop of blood ... ," George explained.

"... or other bodily fluids, depending on their relationship to you," Fred added.

"The time dedicated to weaving, tailoring and stitching would also have an impact on the effectiveness. The more people are working on it, the more powerful it would become as well." George explained further.

"Mind, asking random people for a token would not help. The tokens have to represent their sincere sentiments."

"So this would be why the Death Eaters don't have armours. They can't find enough people who truly care," Harry exclaimed.

"Right in one" Fred nodded.

"See, mom knits everyone of us a Weasley jumper for Christmas," George started.

"But she can't spend a lot of time on each of them and she makes them all by herself. They give us a fuzzy feeling ... " Fred went on.

"But really could not protect us from any, hex, curse or jinx," George said.

"So we've thought of basically making a bubble bath armour potion where one only needs to add the tokens, much weaker than the good old body armours but much more easily to manage on a lager scale," Fred.

"That's a brilliant idea!" Harry exclaimed.

"Also the lesser strength is partially made up for by the fact that you would be literally soaking in the potion from head to toe, instead of only covering a part of your body with the armour." Fred added as an afterthought.

"When we did our research on the topic, we stumbled upon the name Bones. Their family seems to have been quite known for weaving charms into cloaks a few generations back," Fred added.

"But since this is something one cannot acquire by money alone the art became forgotten."

"I'll have to ask Susan some time," Harry mused aloud.

"I've got the feeling that we'll need a large amount of this bubble bath armour potion pretty soon," Harry sighed, "The brilliant thing about the potion is that it would be utterly useless to Death Eaters, most of them, at least and could therefore be sold freely in your defensvie line of products."

"We thought so as well," the twins nodded, "though we haven't developed the potion, yet. With the production our existing lines of products, there's not much time left for research, although the potion should sell very well."

"Maybe, you could use an assistant to help with your standard products?" Harry suggested.

"Who'd be willing to do that?" Fred snorted. "We can't offer a huge salary for the skill required."

"I might know someone," Harry frowned, thinking of Remus werewolf friends, although he did not quite know the quality of their spell work, "You wouldn't mind, if he or she was a werewolf, would you?"

"Remus?," George shook his head, "Of course we'd be glad to take on Remus!"

"No, probably not Remus, but one of his friends."

"If Remus says they're alright, we'll give it a try, if they're up for the job."

"Great," Harry grinned, "I'll get back to you about that."

Harry stayed for a while longer. Laughter filled the small flat, as they reminisced about old times. Harry told them how Umbridge came to be suspended from office and it hit home painfully hard how the last year had changed them all, even the twins. There was a hard glint in their eyes, a vindictiveness that went far beyond any prank, but was so much darker in nature.

Well past midnight Harry finally took his leave, stumbling slightly from the twins generous supply of firewhisky. He must have drunken more than he realized.

The next day the Yule holidays were over and together with Neville he had to return back to school. Slightly, hung over he dosed for the better part of the journey.

When the train moved into Hogsmeade station, Harry felt excited and yet dreaded what was to come. Surely, his interview in the daily Prophet had brought a lot of attention to his person, more so than he usually got already. It would stir up a lot of questions with a lot of people. Dumbledore would demand answers as well and Harry seriously dreaded that confrontation.

However, Harry also hoped he could get the Headmaster to cooperate in regards to the new common room. Basically, Harry still had the upper hand; he also had an inkling that Dumbledore had some hidden corpses in the closet. Until then he was stumbling around in the dark, seeking to get some dirt on his one time mentor.

When Harry marched into the Great Hall every head turned in his direction, the air buzzing with fierce whispers. The students he had met at the dance waved at him from their respective house tables.

After dinner Harry was not overly surprised, when Professor Mc Gonagall told him to see the Headmaster in his study right away.

The gargoyle slid immediately aside and Harry was seated across the Headmaster's desk shortly after.

"I hope you've had a pleasant holiday, Harry." Dumbledore said kindly.

"Very much so," Harry said softly.

"You have taken a very active role in politics lately, my dear boy," Dumbledore twinkled.

"I'm getting constantly dragged into politics, anyway. Now I can at least control it and some good may come of it."

They were circling each other with intricate speech patterns for a while longer, neither budging nor launching an attack just yet, but both aware that it was only a matter of time before one of them would make the first move.

Harry finally managed to bring up the topic of a houseless common room, which Dumbledore could not find a reason to oppose and yet Harry thought that for someone constantly advocating house unity, the headmaster showed very little enthusiasm.

Harry realized once again that while Dumbledore may not lie, he was not one to speak his mind, either. With Dumbledore it was not what he said but rather what he did not say, one had to pay attention to. It would lead him straight to what he was not supposed to know. The whole conversation left him drained from all the twinkles they had exchanged and in a bad mood from the things hanging between them, unvoiced.

He then decided to give Slughorn his belated Christmas present, as an expression of good will, – or more candidly spoken his bribe easing the way into negotiations about the wolfsbane potion. Instead of killing the mood of yet another perfectly nice evening, he might as well get it over with now.

There had been a time, when he would have prided himself above such things as bribes. At this point in time he had no such scruples. While the candy was costly, what really mattered was the implied fondness, appreciation and respect conveyed through such a gift, no matter that those implications could not be further from the truth.

Ironically, he had copied the idea from Tom Riddle, now Voldemort, who at the time had used the same trick to get on Slughorn's good side. Pineapple candy. He doubted Slughorn would recognize the repetitiveness for what it was.

Harry retrieved the brightly wrapped gift from inside his robes and unshrunk it. Then he straightened his shoulders and knocked on the door to Slughorn's quarters. He waited. Maybe Slughorn was not there? Then the door opened.

"Harry," Slughorn seemed cautious," but the gift thrust his way seemed to ease his mind, for he added more jovially, " What a nice surprise. Do come in."

Harry stepped in and let himself be ushered onto the stuffy love seat closest to the fire, where he waited patiently while Slughorn was bustling about, summoning wine glasses and a thin bottle.

"Elven wine," Slughorn explained, while he served both of them generously, "Have had it for a couple of years. I have been just waiting for the right occasion." He moved to the arm chair closest to Harry.

Harry smirked. Some people never changed. Sipping his wine Harry engaged Slughorn in idle chit chat. Slughorn was getting sweaty and red faced, while he drew nearer and told Harry about his holidays, all the presents he had gotten from important people. Finally, there was a lull in the conversation.

"I have thought over your request for protection. I could grant you sanctuary," Harry said. Letting on that there was indeed something he needed from Slughorn, would only complicate the negotiations.

Slughorn stared at him with reluctant, barely suppressed hope. As a Slytherin he knew, of course, that everything came with a price. Providing information about a former student would not be enough, even when said student had become Voldemort.

"I'll pay for your expenses, of course," Slughorn hastened to reassure him.

"You know as well as I do that safety cannot be bought with money, as it cannot be provided by money alone, either.

"I've got a lot of useful connections," Slughorn was quick to volunteer.

"Can't do much with those, while you're hiding." Harry countered,"Now, obviously a safe place is highly sought after these days- especially one I vouch for,"

Slughorn twitched and then said, "I do also have a lot of not widely known information about a lot of people." Harry schooled his face to stay expressionless. This just proved to him once again that Slughorn could not be trusted, as he was willing betray his confidants under even the slightest hint of pressure, even if he planned on taking full advantage of that fact, once he was actually seeking such information. Right now he had to secure himself a potions master.

"I'll be sure to ask, once I'm in need of information." Harry paused, "But I feel you need a more permanent occupation, if I am to employ my resources to keep you safe."

"What do you have in mind?" Slughorn asked, obviously resigned to agree to whatever Harry demanded.

"I intend to make full use of your skills as a potions master, whether be it brewing whatever I may require, or supervising and instructing others." There the cat was out of the bag.

"Agreed," Slughorn said, "Provided you can indeed keep me save."

"Agreed," Harry offered his hand to seal the deal. He almost felt bad for exploiting the man like that, almost being the key. "I will consider your work as payment for your rent, as well," he said nevertheless. He could afford to be generous now he had gotten what he wanted.

"It would be best, if you stayed at Hogwarts, till the end of the school year though. You should be safe enough here for now," Harry further dictated his terms.

"Fine," Slughorn gave in.

"Your first task will be brewing as much of the wolvesbane potion as you can manage and researching possible short cuts." Harry had finally come to the heart of the matter, hopefully without Slughorn realizing it. He would find a way to use it to his advantage.

"A challenging project – time consuming," Slughorn's eyes glinted.

"Of course, I will pay for the ingredients and your work, as long as you reside within Hogwarts." Harry conceded. He could afford to be generous now that he had gotten what he wanted. He could allow Slughorn that small victory, so the main felt he had gotten a fair bargain.

Harry forced himself to accept another glass of wine, talking of inconsequential things, before he took his leave. He really did not like Slughorn and the man had the tendency to come much too close during their conversations. He could smell the sweat on the older wizard and feel his breath on his face, their knees bumping together. It creeped him out, but Harry could not allow himself to step back. It would have been a weakness. Unfortunately, Slughorn promised to be useful and so Harry would have to put up with him.

It was on the next Friday during dinner already that the opening of the new common room was announced with great aplomb in the Great Hall, which was why that evening a never ending stream of curious students cautiously entered the room.

All of the former DA members except for Marietta and Cho were present, settling close to Harry's circle of friends talking animately amongst themselves. Ginny and Neville had persuaded Daphne and Blaise to come as well and while there was some underlying tension upon their entrance, so far everyone was getting along fairly well.

The tension, Harry mused, stemmed mostly from the fact that no one quite knew the two reserved Slytherins and therefore did not know what to expect. Hopefully, they all would get to know each other better. The common room surely was a step in the right direction. Those he had met at the dance seemed more ready to include the two Slytherins than most of the others.

"Potter" Malfoy marched up from the doorway of the common room to Harry's table. Everyone looked up.

"What is this?" Malfoy thrust the article featuring the interview under Harry's nose. Harry felt weariness creep up inside him. It appeared that he had decided that the time had come for a public truce. It would have helped, had he given him a warning of what to expect. Now Harry had to improvise and play his part to make their reconciliation believable.

Harry marvelled at Malfoy's acting skills. He wore the trademark snotty expression he usually wore in public – not that he was any less snotty in private – just different. If he acted too different now, people would not believe that he was genuine, anyway.

If Harry was honest with himself, he had to admit that as much as Malfoy's attitude irked him at times – well most of the time – he just would not be Malfoy, if he was all cheery and friendly. Part of Malfoy's appeal was him being – well - his usual self.

"Is this accurate?" Malfoy did not need to elaborate for the sake of their audience, as everyone knew the contents of the article.

"Yes," Harry nodded, his expression neutral, guarded, as being approached by his long time rival called for. He still did not quite know how Malfoy was planning to go about this.

"Then I'm offering you a truce," Malfoy said regally.

"That's a bit sudden. What has brought this on?" Harry asked. Giving in too quickly would make him seem too gullible and might also key their audience in that there was more to the story than met the eye.

"As sudden as you making up your mind about politics and becoming sensible?"

"I wouldn't have thought you'd agree to my take on the matter?" Harry said.

"I don't" Malfoy sneered, "But it's practical and therefore worthy of consideration."

"Then I accept your offer," Harry replied and held out his hand, "Truce?"

"Truce" Malfoy shook his hand.

"Harry James Potter" Harry said.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, pleased to make your acquaintance." A smile formed on Malfoy's lips.

It had taken them more than six years, but finally they were shaking hands, not quite in friendship yet, like Malfoy had initiated all those years ago at the Hogwarts Express, but Harry felt his face split into an unrestrained grin, as he locked gazes with Malfoy.

"I should be going," Malfoy said and turned towards the exit. Conversation started up around them again. Of course, everyone was discussing what had just occurred between the two former rivals.

"You don't have to leave. This is as much your common room as anybody else's," Harry said, although he would have much preferred to drag Malfoy out of the room.

"Of course," Malfoy sneered, apparently indignant about the idea he might need an invitation to stay. But then he cautiously settled into an arm chair turned half way towards Harry but also close to Daphne and Blaise, the only other Slytherins in the room so far.

"Miss Greengrass, Zabini," Malfoy inclined his head.

"Malfoy," Daphne and Blaise returned the gesture flatly, guardedly but yet with that stiff cordiality that purebloods seemed to imbibe from infancy.

After being left in limbo since the very beginning of the school year, Harry's public relationship to Malfoy had been finally cleared up, but Harry did still not know what to make of their private one. They were still not quite friends and yet he cared a great deal about Malfoy, annoying as he tended to be.

In political terms they would have to be called allies but that description did not quite cover it – allies did not shag. He would not go as far as calling them lovers, the word itself implying a sentiment he was very sure lacked the equation. Maybe one did not have to label everything and just take some things as they were.

Meanwhile Hermione and Terry Boot were pouring excitedly over a couple of complicated looking equations – their arithmancy homework probably.

"Awesome... like programming ... giving parameters to define what you want to happen," were the mangled threads of conversation Harry was able to pick up among the noisy chatter. Hermione's eyes shone happily, as she nodded her head excitedly. Terry shuffled through his parchments and and pointed at one part of the equation.

"Fascinating," Hermione exclaimed and began to hastily scribble another equation at a scrap of parchment. Hermione was in her element, but finally she had found someone who shared her passion.

Blaise watched them, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Harry remembered that he too was taking arithmancy. After a while Blaise leaned in close and joined their discussion, which had been way over Harry's head from the start, but due to his obvious affinity with numbers Arithmancy was probably one of Blaise's better subjects.

Blaise lacked the passion in their aimless discussion of theory, but Harry still had to admit that the discussion those three had right now, probably was the most stimulating and intellectually challenging one Hermione had for the entirety of her stay at Hogwarts.

Harry once again concluded that sorting pupils according to their strongest character traits was a bad idea all around. People tended to be a mix of all the four houses, needed to be in fact, in order to have an intact personality. Proclaiming someone a typical member of their house might not be the compliment it was generally thought to be.

How had Crabbe and Goyle ended up in Slytherin? They were far too dumb to be cunning. Was the hat claiming, they were even less brave or loyal than they were cunning? Peter Pettigrew had been sorted into Gryffindor. Ratting out your friends to the enemy was not brave.

Around Harry his year mates were chatting animatedly or doing homework, obviously having a good time, mingling with year mates from different houses. It quickly became apparent that the members from different houses hardly knew each other. Creating a place to casually socialize without house affiliations seemed a major step into the right direction.

Harry was content to let the animated chatter of the other students wash over himself. Finally an hour before curfew, Harry said his goodbyes, nodding at Malfoy, as he swept from the room, casting a notice me not charm on himself. Five minutes later, Malfoy left the room as well and Harry directed him to an empty class room.

They worked in tandem as they set up the wards. Then Malfoy crushed him to the wall and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

"Thank you, for what you did for my mother."

"You're welcome," Harry said uncomfortably. Malfoy pushed him further into the wall and started to hungrily kiss his neck.

"I've been thinking," Harry said breathlessly, "I think it's time you'd call me Harry." Malfoy studied his face carefully and then smirked.

"I agree, calling you Potter under the circumstances does seem a little odd, but calling you by your first name will take some time getting used to as well."His eyes sparkled with something akin to happiness, but his expression was too guarded to be read properly. "You'll have to call me Draco, of course." Harry grinned.

Once again he wondered were they stood with each other. However, asking Malfoy – Draco now – was out of the question. He was not prone to give a straight answer anyway.

"So how is your mother faring so far?" he asked instead.

"As well as can be expected. Even though she is locked up for safety, she is still locked up. It will drive her crazy before long."

"Understandable," Harry sighed, thinking about Sirius, "Maybe, it would help her, if she had something useful to pass her time with." He frowned. He could not involve her in the war. She'd likely feel she had no other choice and resent him for it.

However, Mrs Malfoy was an upper class pureblood witch and therefore and expert in wizarding customs, tradition and etiquette. Surely, he could use that somehow? She probably wouldn't mind occupying her time that.

"I'll think about it. We'll find a solution," Harry said, "For now we'll simply have to visit her often."

"You realize, of course, that your change of allegiance is quite out in the open now..." Harry left that sentence hanging, not quite knowing where he was going with it. On one hand, he rather liked the idea of having Draco publicly on his side but on the other hand it put him in even more danger. Then however, Draco seemed to rarely do anything without thinking it through, which was why he wondered what exactly had caused him to openly approach Harry in the first place.

"Your ability to state the obvious...", Draco snarked.

"What have you been thinking?" Harry huffed and Draco only smirked in response, apparently not about to disclose his motives.

"Have you had a good holiday?" he inquired instead.

"Yeah, awesome," Harry grinned. "I've got quite a lot of things done."

"Like?.." Draco said leadingly.

Like having my mother's ancestry researched and finding out that there had indeed been a squib a few generations back in the family." Draco looked intrigued.

"We are even related - in the widest sense of the word – through my mother."

"How is that?" Draco's voice had a sharp edge to it, a mixture of curiosity and indignation. Claiming a relation through a person he had been taught to consider inferior did not go over well.

"Hesper Gamp and Sirius Black had a daughter, apparently - Adrianna Black"

"Hesper Gamp and Sirius Black did not have a child" Draco contradicted him.

"No magical child, no, but apparently they gave birth to a squib, who, as I came to understand it, would not have turned up on any family tapestry, or even be talked about, ever."

"Of course not," Draco exclaimed indignantly, an angry blush forming on his cheeks at the insinuation his mother's impeccably (in)bred family might have produced a squib and then the blush spread rapidly all over his face.

"No, I guess not," he added more subdued. It seemed he had caught on just how he had put his foot in.


	33. Chapter 33

**I've been getting ahead of myself. Obviously, the Gaunts are not known to be descendents of Slytherin - It's the Gaunts. Thank you for pointing that out to me, tamilas. I've corrected my error now.**

**As for the thing Harry and Draco have going on: Harry has got too much on his mind to fret about Draco as well and Draco is following his own agenda. He really wouldn't be Draco, if he wasn't already plotting, although that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Neither of them knows where they stand with each other. However, Chapter 35 will get some of your questions answered. **

**Thanks for reviewing - There can never be too many reviews!!! **

**In the last chapter there was a typing error - Obviously, Death Eaters can't use armours as the twins described them, because they can't find enough people to care deeply enough for their tokens to give any protection. Affection among those regularly practising the Dark Arts is limited to few people and dimming the further they delve into darkness. Death Eaters usually associate mainly with other Death Eaters. So...  
**

**Draco will turn up in the next chapter, again. I don't want to rush things with him. He and Harry both are very complicated individuals. I have yet to start on the next chapter, but chapter 35 is already written and I'm very pleased with it. **

**I'm not very fond of this chapter, it seems shallow, but it can't be helped.  
**

**So review, please. Reviews have a very inspiring effect on me and I might just update soon again**.

**Chapter 33**

"I could finally clear up the mystery of my ancestry," Harry smirked at Salazar Slytherin's portrait, who only raised an inquiring eyebrow, indicating for him to go on with a sweep of his hand.

"My mother was indeed a squib descendant of a pureblood line".

"Care to elaborate on that," Slytherin demanded sharply.

"Of course," Harry shot him a reproving glance at his tone of voice.

"Apparently, my mother was a descendant of Adrianna Black, a Squib, born to Sirius Black and Hesper Gamp in 1907." Harry took a deep breath.

"Of course, there are no records of her ever existing in the wizarding world. The muggle genealogist I employed, however, lost the trail of my mother's ancestry at Hesper Gamp and Sirius Black. Now on the family tapestry of the Noble and Ancient House of Black there is a Sirius Black born in 1877, who married a Hesper Gamp later on, which fits perfectly into the time frame for them having a child in 1907, even though they remained childless as far as the tapestry is concerned. Their names are a tad too unusual for it to be a mere coincidence and a squib would have never turned up on the tapestry, of course," Harry said.

"That is indeed raising questions. However, so far you cannot offer more than guess work," Slytherin said, "That wont be enough to change minds about a so deeply ingrained belief, if you are right. But then you might also be an exception."

"Then my friend Hermione Granger is an exception as well. She's a descendant of the McGonagall line," Harry argued.

"So maybe she is – an exception that is," Slytherin said his face unmoving, seemingly uncaring, "You'll need something more than that."

"I intend to have all muggleborn students research their ancestry. I'm aware that it might just be a coincidence but, if I'm right the mere numbers should speak for themselves."

"No self respecting wizard would allow muggle based knowledge to change their mind about something so important. Back up your theory by magical means, if you want to be taken seriously," Slytherin snapped.

Slytherin was driving him mad with his low opinion of muggles, his superiority complex. Unfortunately, it mirrored the believes of the majority of the wizarding world, never mind where they stood politically. Slytherin was right. A statistic evaluation of the ancestry of muggleborn Hogwarts students would not be taken seriously.

"How could I prove this magically?" Harry therefore inquired.

"You get them tested at Gringott's," Slytherin sneered, " Every wizarding family who has ever had a vault there had to sign a contract in blood. Goblins employ the tests to verify inheritance claims."

"So I'd simply have to do this test and it will show me to whom in the wizarding world I'm related?" Harry asked incredulously. If it was that easy why had nobody done it before him? It could even be a standard procedure for muggleborns.

"Of course not, "Slytherin snapped impatiently, "The test only confirms a relation to a specific bloodline."

"Oh," Harry said. So he'd still have to narrow it down the muggle way and then gain the final proof the magical way, a hassle but perfectly doable.

Finally, Harry settled into the armchair with his quill and a piece of parchment, writing a letter to Remus. He told him the twins' need for an assistant and their willingness to employ Remus or one of his friends. Then he proceeded to tell him about his only recently discovered ancestry, his plans for further research. He told him about the new common room. It turned into a rather long letter, which he took up to the owlery just before dinner.

Of course, the news of his truce with Draco had been spreading like wild fire. Already the day after Draco had approached him in the new common room there was not a single person at Hogwarts who had not heard of it.

Seated at the Gryffindor table Harry observed the reaction of those around him. Pansy Parkinson was in a rather heated discussion with Draco, once again draping herself half over Draco's lap it seemed. Her shrill shrieks could be heard even at the Gryffindor table.

Crabbe and Goyle wore their usual dumb expressions. They seemed lost, somehow. It was obvious that they did not quite know what to make of everything. They had been tagging along Draco since first year, their major task being to support Draco in his quarrels with Harry. What was to be their place now that Draco was no longer picking fights with Harry? Quite probably they saw Draco's truce with Harry as a personal betrayal to them.

They had never made their own choices, but rather gone along with Draco. While they had been malicious, they had also been loyal to Draco. Loyalty was proclaimed a typical Huffelpuff trait, save for the maliciousness, but Harry figured they had only sought their place among their piers. In the end, they only wanted to matter. Everybody did.

Theodore Nott was sneering rather unpleasantly at Draco. He figured he would have to look out for him. From the head table Snape was also glaring at Harry. That was nothing unusual, although there was also a speculative glint in his eyes. Dumbledore seemed pensive and troubled.

"It's great to be back," Ginny sighed, "At home things were strange. Ron has been a sullen prick. Mum was furious at him. And while the twins constantly pranking Ron was rather funny, it did put even more of a strain on mum's mood. Then Bill has brought Fleur Delacour home to dinner a couple of times – They're dating, did you know - and you know how Ron's drooling over her. Mum can't quite stand Fleur... Hogwarts seems quiet in comparison."

"I can imagine," Harry said.

"Fleur laid in on Ron about outing you to all of Hogwarts. How it's not proper to do so, aside from it being the mark of a bad friend. He got even moodier."

"Not proper?" Harry asked puzzled. Obviously, he had felt betrayed when Ron had carelessly disclosed something so private about him, but propriety had not been on his mind.

"I could hardly have denied the truth, when he voiced it," Harry shrugged, "It would have been silly. I'm not ashamed of being gay."

Neville seemed to sense his confusion, for he cut in.

"It's got nothing to do with shame. Nobody announces their sexual orientation quite like that – either way. It's a matter of keeping one's options open, when it comes to marriage – not that you'd have to worry about that. Still what Ron did was a grave affront and something more traditional people are not likely to forget - ever. He'll have a hard time of it."

Harry shook his head. The more he learnt about the wizarding world, the stranger it appeared to him.

That night after dinner Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ginny headed once again together with Daphne and Blaise to the new common room.

"So about those lessons in healing," Harry asked Daphne, "Would you agree to teach others as well, if they are interested?"

"Alright," Daphne said after a moment, "I guess , everybody could use some basic knowledge about healing these days."

"Great," Harry grinned.

Inside the room a large number of students from Gryffindor, Huffelpuff and Ravenclaw were already assembled. Mostly they were members of the DA, but a couple of the younger students had come as well. The room seemed to be a full success so far. Only Slytherins, save for Daphne and Blaise were still absent.

"We've been discussing this and we think we should introduce the other houses to the Ravenclaw tutoring system," Lisa Turpin was annnouncing, as Harry entered the room.

"Tutoring system?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it goes way back to the founders' era within our house! Ravenclaw is about an exchange of knowledge. Everybody signing up for a lesson agrees to repay the tutoring community by offering to teach about their own field of expertise. The sytem can only benefit from all houses participating!"

"Not everyone is an expert in anything," Lavender Brown said testily, "Not all of us are as studious as you are!"

"See that's not the point. If someone requests tutoring on a topic you have knowledge of, you'd share your knowledge with anyone interested. It's the willingness that counts."

"That sounds wonderful," Hermione exclaimed.

"We've brought a black board, where everyone can offer and request tutoring."

"These are the forms as we use them in Ravenclaw," Padma Patil held up a stack of parchment.

Lisa Turpin levitated the blackboard to the wall right next to the entrance and with a sticking charm she hung it up.

Surprisingly, there was a rush towards the board, hands grabbing at the forms. The idea was well received by all those present, it seemed. Far less surprising was that Hermione was the first in line. Harry grinned as he himself was staring helplessly at the form in his hand. This was his chance to fill the gaping holes in his knowledge of the wizarding world. There was so much he needed to learn. He didn't even know where to start.


	34. Chapter 34

**Thank you so much for reviewing! Shona Katt, reading your long and detailed review has really made my day. **

**I've always thought houseelves did not make any sense in canon. ****So I made something up and now I've actually got a whole subplot on the history of houseelves somewhere in the back of my head. It even explains why there are so few places like Diagon Alley, making the whole wizarding world a cramped space within the muggle world. **

**Wizards can hardly move freely. It's understandable that a lot of them feel suppressed. If there was enough space, even Purebloods would consider hiding from muggles less demeaning, as it would feel less like hiding and more exclusive. **

**I'm not sure how I'll work it into the story or how much of it. Houseelves don't know their own history and wizards would not aknowledge and preserve the history of houseelves. They were eager to forget the little they knew over time. They don't like to question their own superiority.**

**However, Harry will have to use houseelve's power with caution. While wizards tend to be thick headed about the powers of other magical beings, sooner or later they would catch on, if new wizarding suburbs popped up out of nowhere, suddenly. Magic always leaves a trace, but so far no one knows what to look for and where to look. Otherwise, those places would not be much safer than any other property under the Fidelius charm.  
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**Harry suspects Narcissa to be very cunning and perspective and he does not trust her at all. He would not like to give her any clues about the houses and asking her to decorate lots of houses would make her wonder. Where did he get the houses from? Did he commission them? Had the property been owned by wizards before? Was it really safe? How did he come into possession of a whole street?**

** On the whole, I'm trying very hard not to turn it into a "Harry and his all powerful houseelves" story. It would soon become boring. So I had to implement some things to balance that out.**

**Oh my, I'm rambling. **

**Anyway, I love reviews. They give my creativity a very inspiring kick. I'm currently adding the finishing touches to chapter 35 and will update soon again. (Once you've had time to let this chapter sink in and I've gotten some feed back.) **

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**Chapter 34**

At breakfast the haughty ministry owl Scrimgour had sent to arrange his first meeting with Harry made its way towards Harry once again. Curiously, Harry broke the seal of the parchment.

_Mr Potter,_

_Hereby, we formally invite thee to the annual Gathering of Wizarding Importance. We delightfully await thy confirmation of attendance._

_Best regards in the name of Life and Magic, _

_Thy Ministry of Magic_

Harry frowned. Gathering of Wizarding Importance? He had never even heard of such a thing.

"What is that?" Harry asked, handing the parchment to Neville.

"That's a formal invitation to the Gathering of Wizarding Importance."

"Gathering of Wizarding Importance? What's that about?"

"Politics," was Neville's rather cryptic reply, "The harvest of last year will be reviewed and the seeds for the coming year will be planted."

"When is it?" Harry asked, feeling the invitation should have been much more forthcoming with information.

"First day of spring."

"And where is it?" Harry asked impatiently, even though it was not Neville's fault the invitation was lacking the information.

"Ministry Reception Hall," Neville readily answered, as if all of this was common knowledge. It probably was - if you were raised in the wizarding world.

"So who will be there?"

"Only those of highest rank and name get invited, people who have got a lot of sway with public opinion," Neville explained.

"So Dumbledore will be there?" Harry asked and Neville nodded.

"So what should I expect?" Harry asked.

"You dress up, make nice with people, try to sway their opinion and you should probably bring a date," Neville said.

"Right," Harry nodded and decided to let it go for now. He would think about the implications of that later. After all he had more than a month time to figure it out. It was a lot to take in. Breakfast was almost over and they had to hurry to their first class of the day.

After classes Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Blaise and Daphne went to an unused class room. Harry decided not to get into the topic of his invitation just then.

"We need to plan how to go about proving the ancestry of muggleborn students," Harry said instead, "Now I've discussed this with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and he suggested all students confirm their ancestry by an inheritance test at Gringott's, after narrowing it down the muggle way."

"That is a good idea," Blaise nodded.

"Can't we just publicly explain our plans and request every muggleborn signs a permission to have their ancestry researched and then undergo the test? We could just announce it at dinner," Ginny suggested.

"There will be plenty of Purebloods attempting to sabotage the research. If Harry's theory is proven right, it will damage the world order of those currently running our world." Daphne cautioned.

"I imagine that Dumbledore would not be overly pleased as well, as the division between magic and muggle would then become far more pronounced," Harry added his concerns, "It would shift from blood matters to magic matters."

"If it were up to Dumbledore, we'd be united with the muggle world and live happily ever after," Ginny said.

"So it really wouldn't be in Dumbledore's interest to prove muggleborns are descendants from squibs," Blaise nodded.

"But we need to stay hidden from the muggles." Hermione said with conviction.

"So what could Dumbledore actually do to stop us?" Ginny pondered.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not find out," Harry said distrustfully. A part of him hated all the subterfuge but it was necessary and another part of him was quite enjoying the plotting.

"What about inviting all the muggleborn students to a meeting? We could take security measures, but it seems unlikely they'd blab about this, once we've explained our reasoning," Neville suggested.

"I'm more concerned with our resident occlumences," Harry explained. "I guess, we'll just have to take the risk. If they don't know what they're looking for, they are unlikely to find anything."

"When will we hold that meeting?" Daphne frowned, "It's suspicious, if such a large group of students goes suddenly missing. And the more careful observer would notice they're all muggleborns."

"Sunday at eight," Blaise smirked, "Lot's of people have a lie in on the weekends. They wont be missed in the Great Hall and everyone still sleeping will either not note their absence or assume they've gotten up early for breakfast. Nobody would be suspicious."

"I don't think everyone would be up to a meeting so early on a Sunday," Ginny objected, "Especially not, if they don't know what that meeting is about."

"Harry Potter inviting them to a secret meeting?" Blaise said, "Of course, they'll come. Everyone loves conspiracies."

Harry sighed. He would never get used to his own notoriety. Unfortunately, Blaise was probably right. None of them would likely pass up the opportunity to be involved in what could become one of Harry Potter's adventures.

"OK, I'll write the notes and send them out over the next couple of days. Can't have an influx of owls," Harry agreed, "I wont tell them who else will be invited, just in case."

"I'll talk to Terry Boot, personally," Hermione offered, "He could also pass word to the other muggleborn students in his house."

"How many muggleborn students are in Ravenclaw?" Harry wanted to know.

"Six, I think," Hermione frowned, " I don't know about the first years and the seventh years."

"We can't just guess from their family names. They might be halfbloods or from a not so well known family." Ginny said.

"It's not like being muggleborn would be something students would brag about," Neville nodded, "It's dangerous in the current political climate."

"Maybe, Terry knows," Hermione said, "We should ask a trusted member from each house."

"Obviously, there is no muggleborn in Slytherin," Daphne stated.

"I suggest, we approach Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. She can keep a secret," Harry said, thinking of the DA and the Yule dance. She had shown so much trust in Harry.

"Oh good,"Neville said, "then give the letters to Susan and Terry and we can give the letters to the Gryffindors ourselves.

"I'll see you later," Hermione dismissed her friends in a hurry now that matter seemed settled.

"OK, See you," Harry blinked, watching her leave the room in a mad dash. He had actually planned on discussing their physical training, but restrained himself from asking where she was going. After all, he did not tell his friends everything, neither. They decided to meet up after dinner and everyone went their separate ways for the moment. Harry decided he might as well get a head start on his homework.

A short while later Harry ended up in the library, only to see Hermione already there with Terry Boot, sitting in a corner, their heads bent closely together over a large tome. Harry almost went over to join them, when he paused. Hermione was giggling. Not only he had she explicitly not invited him along like she usually did, but had been unusually secretive. What was going on?

Hermione looked up and spotted Harry. She blushed. Was this some kind of date? Harry grinned widely at her. Terry had had his back to Harry and had not spotted him, yet. So Harry turned and exited the library to give them some space.

Now meeting in a library was not Harry's idea of an ideal date, but what did he know. Hermione and Terry seemed to share a passion for learning. It seemed fitting.

Outside the library and still puzzling over Hermione's sudden boost of girlishness, he almost bumped into Draco.

"Draco," Harry greeted.

"Harry" Draco nodded.

"Would you like to go see someone?" Harry asked spontaneously, staring hard at Draco and trying to convey that 'someone' actually referred to his mother. After all, he had promised Draco that they would visit his mother frequently.

"Sure," Draco fell into step with Harry and they departed for the room of Requirement.

"So what have you been up to?" Draco asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry grinned. He could not tell him anything relevant without any wards in place. However, they needed to be seen interacting civilly in public.

"Fine," Draco huffed, "So I've heard Ravenclaw has decided to expand their tutoring circle to all of Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"What do you think about that?" Draco wanted to know.

"I think, it will be dead useful. All of us will be able to vastly expand our knowledge," Harry said.

"I didn't know you were a hidden Ravenclaw as well," Draco smirked.

"Oh no, my reasoning is far more Slytherin," Harry smirked back, pacing back and forth in front of the Room of Requirement, "Knowledge is power."

"And here I thought you were a closeted bookworm. What is the Gryffindor approach towards learning and knowledge, anyway?" Draco asked.

"Not sure, there is a typically Gryffindor one," Harry frowned as they entered the room.

Inside Harry wasted no time calling Winky, telling her to announce their impending arrival to Mrs Malfoy.

Harry then took her aside and asked her to have Dobby write the address of the now hidden location on a slip of parchment.

"Houseelves, can't writes, Master Harry" Winky blushed.

"But Dobby did so well with the street signs," Harry said astonished.

"Magic," Winky sniffed ashamed, "Houseelves can't moves quills on parchment with our hands like yous do. We's never learnts to writes. We can't reads too."

"Oh," Harry blinked. Of course, wizards would not have taken the time to teach their houseelves how to write.

"Then can Dobby make the writing appear by magic, again?" Harry suggested, "Dobby needs to be the one revealing the secret. I don't think it really matters how he does it."

So probably it was once again only his order that had enabled Dobby to create the writing for the street signs. Houseelves were so powerful and yet they needed orders to use most of it. It was sad and yet it balanced things out quite nicely. It was probably dangerous for any one individual to be so powerful, to let such power run unchecked, unrestrained. The relationship between wizards and houseelves should be one of equality, a symbiosis. Unfortunately, with their dependance on orders houseelves had drawn the shorter stick of the bargain.

"Yes, Master Harry," Winky bowed low and popped away.

Only a couple of minutes later Winky returned with a slip of parchment and handed it to Draco. Harry read the parchment over Draco's shoulder. The script was of the finest baroque calligraphy and looked incredibly sophisticated. Draco squinted and frowned at the script, probably pondering, whether he had seen this extraordinary penmanship before, which would then reveal the identity of the secret keeper.

"Ready?" Harry smirked in amusement and Draco nodded.

Winky handed them a teacup that looked exactly like the one that Draco had held in his hands upon his first visit with his mother. Together they held on tight to the teacup and were whisked away almost immediately.

Mrs Malfoy sat in the love seat as straight backed as last time.

"Mother," Draco said and bent down to kiss her hand. Harry still marvelled at how stiffly they interacted with each other.

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry bowed. The stiffness appeared to be infectious.

"Potter," she returned his greeting warily and Harry felt out of place. Mrs Malfoy was not there out of her own free will. He had kidnapped her, even if it was for her own protection.

"Maybe you'd prefer to spent some time alone with your son. I'll come back some other time," Harry said awkwardly. How was it that he had excelled at cajoling the Minister of Magic into giving into his whims, yet turned into an awkward little boy now. That would not do at all.

He would keep her hidden, even if it meant keeping her against her will, for Draco's sake and any number of intricate reasons, he did not even want to think about at that moment. Politeness and social niceties did not change the fact that she was his prisoner. Prisoners could not be trusted. Harry shook his head. He had become far too paranoid.

"I'd be delighted, if you stayed for a cup of tea at least, Mr Potter." Mrs Malfoy said and while she did not sound delighted, she seemed sincere in her request that he stayed.

Harry could not afford to change his plans for her. It was rather a matter of how he sold her current situation to her, so she would not turn bitter.

"Thank you," Harry said and perched himself on an armchair facing the love seat occupied by Draco and his mother. Winky appeared with a tea tray, biscuits and sandwiches.

"Thank you," Harry smiled and Winky left as quietly as she had appeared.

"So how have you been settling in?" Harry asked, "Is anything missing that would make your stay more comfortable? The whole apartment has been put together in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, the design is very tasteful," Mrs Malfoy said taking a sip of tea.

Harry gritted his teeth. How he hated this superficial politeness. He was ready to burst. His prisoner was complimenting the design of her prison.

"Unfortunately, the only robes at my disposal are the ones I've been wearing when I left the Manor." Mrs Malfoy said with a hint of disdain.

"Of course," Harry exclaimed, "I had not thought of that. I'll see about getting you some robes, even though they wont be fitted to you, I'm afraid."

"That's fine. It's not like anyone will see them. I wont be leaving the house," Mrs Malfoy waved away his concerns with a sigh.

"Maybe, you'd like a couple of books to pass the time," Harry suggested tentatively.

"That would be delightful," Mrs Malfoy said graciously and took another sip of tea.

I think, we have got rather a lot of topics we need to discuss," Mrs Malfoy then said.

She settled her tea cup gently on the table and folded her hands in her lap, which was once again a typical Pureblood gesture. And yet Harry had only recently become aware of it. Purebloods were careful to keep their hands visible and wandless in tense, possibly hostile situations, thus indicating their peaceful intentions. It did not matter that Mrs Malfoy was not in possession of her wand at the moment, anyway. The gesture came instinctively to all those wizard raised.

"All right" Harry sighed. Nothing he had read about or done before had prepared him for the situation at hand, "I hope, you've had some time to come to terms with the current situation."

"It's been a lot to take in," Mrs Malfoy said, " But as we've had established last time, our best chances lie with you now." Her expression gave nothing away. Her tone of voice held no inflection. Her whole demeanour was polite but perfectly neutral, due to its carefully measured adequacy.

"I can't let you do anything that involves you leaving the house. It would be too dangerous and part of the deal I've made with your son is that I keep you safe. I intend to keep that promise. I also don't want to give you a task that goes against your ideals and believes," Harry voiced his thoughts on the matter.

"Now I understand that being kept alone without anything purposeful to do is a sure way to drive anyone insane," Harry continued, a sad smile on his lips, as he thought of Sirius, who was actually a cousin of the woman in front of him – the woman who had also helped to get him killed.

He did feel no small amount of resentment towards her. Maybe it was some sort of justice that it was now her, who could not leave the house. However, he was not doing it for her sake. Revenge was not on the front of his mind, when it came to her.

She had paid dearly for her part in the whole affair. The Ministry of Magic fiasco had lost her her husband to Azkaban and forced her son into Voldemort's service. Maybe justice was already done. Neither was he keeping her safe for her own sake, nor was he locking her up for revenge. He was doing it as part of his deal with Draco, who he had come to rather like in a weird way. A bonus was the confusion her disappearance likely caused among the Death Eaters.

"I do have an offer as to what I would like you to do. I feel, you would be perfect for the job. However, feel free to decline, if for whatever reason you don't want to do this." Harry said.

"Fine," Mrs Malfoy looked him calmly in the eyes, "What do you have in mind?"

"I would like you to write a book on wizarding customs, traditions and etiquette for muggle raised magical children."

"There are a lot of books on etiquette already," Mrs Malfoy stated.

"That's true. Ive read a whole bunch of them over the summer," Harry nodded, "However, the author usually assumes the reader already knows the basics, at least. To me it usually seems like the author jumps right into the middle. Most things don't make any sense at all. A muggle raised child would not know a thing about gestures and postures a wizard raised child would take for granted, for instance."

"I wouldn't know what kind of things mud - muggle raised children would not know," Mrs Malfoy said haughtily.

"I've made notes on the margins of the books, whenever I felt something was missing. That might help, although I'd rather you'd write something from scratch, maybe something for children to read before they go to Hogwarts, maybe just make notes and see where it's leading. We need something to start a curriculum for the summer courses for muggle raised children, anyway."

"Fine," Mrs Malfoy sneered, "It's worth a try."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, "Keep in mind you don't have to do this, if you don't want to." He did not want her to feel forced. It would only bite him in the arse later on.

Mrs Malfoy nodded stiffly.

"So what are your plans for the future?" she asked then.

"Mother," Draco exlaimed, "Harry had his ancestry researched. Apparently, he's a Black on his mother's side!"

"It still needs to be proven magically," Harry cautioned, but grinned nonetheless at Draco's enthusiasm.

"Even if it's true, it's heavily diluted by muggle blood," Mrs Malfoy said her lips curled in distaste.

"Nevertheless, my mother was magically strong and so am I." Harry countered and Mrs Malfoy looked like she had swallowed a lemon, although she had refrained from any actual insults. She probably deemed it unwise to anger him while dependent on his good will.

"My friends and I think there might actually be a pattern," Harry proceeded to tell them about the research and their plans to have a blood test done at Gringott's to cement the theory. The concept did not seem to sit well with Mrs Malfoy, but then it was a lot to take in. One did not change ones believes over night. Draco, however, looked vaguely excited.

"What are your plans for the future, Mr Potter." Mrs Malfoy asked sternly.

"You mean beyond defeating Voldemort and surviving? I haven't made any plans beyond that," Harry shrugged.

"A young man such as yourself should prepare for the future. When you have defeated the Dark Lord, you will have a prominent role in our world, Mr Potter."

"I guess," Harry sighed, "What do you think I should do? I've already got my hands full with the present – defeating Voldemort, even though I'm laying the ground work for political reforms after the war."

"While that is highly recommendable, that is not what I have been talking about," Mrs Malfoy began.

"Mother," Draco interrupted.

Harry noted the strangely pleading look Draco sent his mother to just drop it, but he did not know what to make of it. Why was Mrs Malfoy starting to nag him, anyway?

"I think, we should leave now," Draco coughed uncomfortably, "We don't want to be late for dinner."

They got back right in time for dinner and headed to the Great Hall together. It was time to get everyone used to their truce. Once inside they went to their respective house tables.

"What have you been doing with Malfoy?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"We've publicly agreed on a truce, remember," Harry shrugged, "We've just been catching up in private."

"You shouldn't be too trusting," Neville cautioned calmly.

"No worries," Harry said. He was still reluctant to actually trust Draco without a good reason, but he had a good reason. He was the only one who knew where Draco's mother was. That certainly was no guarantee that Draco was not doing some plotting of his own, but he really had nothing to gain and a lot to lose by helping Voldemort.

"Harry you can't just let him drag you out of the public eye. With the history you've had ... who says he's not up to something?" Hermione snapped.

"Sure, he's up to something," Harry said, "He's Draco Malfoy."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, "You know who his father is."

"How could I forget," Harry said, "I also know that he's not his father. He's just been a royal prat so far. Technically, that's no crime."

"Still, you should exercise some caution!"

"Of course," Harry tried to reassure her, "But I want to give this truce a chance. Besides he's really not so bad, when he's gotten that stick out of his aristocratic arse."

"Oh, Harry can hold his own against Malfoy," Ginny snickered and winked at Harry, "I'm sure Harry will get out of any broom closet Malfoy drags him into, halfway unscratched, if that's what he he wants."

"Oi, get your mind out of the gutter," Harry blushed and swatted Ginny over the head, "We've been just talking." In his mind he added, "This time, at least."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," Hermione had blushed as well.

"Yes Mum," Harry rebuked, a hint of warning in his voice. She was taking this too far.

"Harry, do you know something we don't?" Neville asked then.

"Probably," Harry grinned. "I'm sure there's plenty you don't know about my life, but then there is plenty I don't know about yours, as well." Harry diverted the discussion, giving them all a warning to just drop it.

Neville's question had hit a little too close to home. What they did not know was that Harry had hidden Narcissa Malfoy for her safety. Draco had no means to get to her without Harry and this gave him a lot of leverage, technically. He did not intent to hold it over Draco's head. It was just a fact neither of them were likely to forget. He himself was not sure how much he could or would otherwise trust Draco.

However, this was not something he could disclose to his friends. They did not need to know and the fewer people knew the better it was. So their suspicions where understandable from their limited point of view, but they were still annoying.

Neville stared at him long and hard and then nodded decisively.

"I trust your judgement," he finally said.

"Fine," Hermione huffed and stared incredulously at Neville.

After dinner a large group of students met once again at the new common room. Harry curiously looked at the tutoring demands and offers on the newly installed black board. The idea was indeed very well received. There were far more demands for tutoring than offers, but at a second glance that was hardly surprising. While there were the expected demands for tutoring in a school subject, most of the demands concerned very obscure subjects. While there would probably be very qualified tutors among the students, none of them would have probably considered it a topic worth to be tutored in.

Obviously, a lot of the demands had come from Hermione and ranged from magical healing to wizarding customs. Quite unusual for her she had yet to sign up as a tutor for any subject.

Something about their excursion into the muggle world seemed to have struck a cord in Daphne, for she had demanded tutoring in basic muggle healing methods, muggle dress codes, and modern muggle culture. Blaise had demanded tutoring in muggle technology. Harry could only guess that his interest was largely caused by his recent discovery of computers.

Finally, Harry took a quill and added his own demand – a demand for background information on the Hogwarts founders, On one hand, he hoped that it might bring the houses closer together, if they got to know and learnt to appreciate all of the Hogwarts founders. On the other hand, he thought that with Voldemort's obsession with Hogwarts the information might be useful.

Of course, he could have gone to the library for the same results but the sharing of knowledge was far less time consuming and much more fun, as well. Harry figured he would probably sign up for all but the muggle related tutoring courses.

Shortly before curfew, when everyone was heading back to their dorms, Harry took a detour and managed to snatch Susan for a quiet word. She readily agreed to deliver the letters to the muggleborn students in Huffelpuff. A minute later she had caught up with her friends and Harry went on his way as well.

That night before falling asleep Harry pondered the ramifications of his invitation to the gathering at the ministry. It had to be Scrimgour's doing. Had he hoped Harry would make a fool of himself by giving as little information as possible? That would lessen Harry's growing influence, while his attendance would make him a public icon for the ministry at the same time. That did nothing to ease his nerves, but Harry was determined not to make a fool of himself. He would be prepared.


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you for reviewing. I particularly enjoyed reading the more lengthy reviews. And with that much motivation I will probably be able to update soon again.**

**Hodemi, yes their perception of each other will slowly change. It is definitely more complex than just sex. However, I wont turn the story into a typical fluffy romance. Those two are just too complicated. Draco is a snob, Harry is clueless - just to name a few of their issues. **

**I'm always disappointed, when I read a fic where Harry and Draco have turned into a cliched couple (the couples in fanfics seem to behave always in the same patterns, never mind who they are, patterns which I have yet to see with real couples, by the way), where most of the time one of them has been turned into a girl from the way they act. IMO it robs the whole appeal from that ship - two headstrong guys with very different world views and experiences who have got a lot of chemistry between them.**

**As for Luna - I'll have to implement her into some former chapters, when I've got the time, because I've discovered that I need her. However, I find it to incredibly hard to write her, especially as I don't need her as a joke to lighten the mood of the story but for her open mindedness. Before I had left her out, because I'm trying to focus on the characters essential for the plot. It's hard to keep track of so many different characters.  
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**Shinigami - I agree with you but Harry is slowly getting there. Uniting the wizarding world is taking time though.  
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**I'm also urgently looking for a beta. Looking through beta profiles hasn't work so far. So I'm hoping that maybe some of you would like to apply for the job.**

**Thank you so much for reviewing, again.  
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**Chapter 35**

Sunday morning at half past seven Harry and Hermione paced in front of the Room of Requirement. He needed a room for his meeting with the muggleborn students. They entered a room with plushy armchairs around a large table and called Winky to bring them some snacks. Meeting on an empty stomach did not sit well with him. Harry sat down at the head of the table and waited with Hermione seated on his right, skimming nervously through the documentation they had received on their ancestry.

At a quarter to eight Terry Boot and five other Ravenclaws entered the room. Harry had only passed them in the halls a couple of times. They were mostly younger students. Terry sat down in the chair next to Hermione, the other students clustering around them.

The door opened and the Creevy brothers entered. They nervously settled at the farthest end of the table. Colin seemed incredibly nervous. He twitched when the door opened again to reveal a second year Gryffindor and a cluster of Hufflepuffs. Only a first year Gryffindor had yet to show up.

At five past eight a tiny girl with black curls rushed in. She was incredibly thin.

"Sorry," she panted, "I got lost."

"It's all right," Harry smiled at her.

"Now that you're all here we can begin," Harry stood up from his seat.,"Help yourselves to some breakfast, while I tell you why you're here."

"Now looking at those assembled, you might have noticed that you're all muggleborns," Harry began, "except for me. Some time ago I came up with a theory. We believe that muggleborns are descendants from squibs."

"Why does that matter?" Dennis Creevy asked.

"If we can prove this, it would help fight the prejudices about muggleborns," Harry explained, "As a first step I had hired a muggle genealogist to research my mother's and Hermione's ancestry. According to the results of that research my mother might be a descendant of a squib from the Black line and Hermione is a descendant of the McGonagall line.

We will know for sure after we have undergone a blood test at Gringott's. Now even if the test is positive, it will be put down as a coincidence, because there are only two of us. That's why we want to ask for your permission to have your ancestry researched and then that you undergo the test at Gringott's."

"That's got to be expensive," Anthony Goldstein voiced his concern.

"I will cover all the expenses," Harry assured him.

"Why don't you present your theory to the ministry and let them organize the research?" asked an older Ravenclaw, " Your theory sounds plausible enough."

"The upper Purebloods would have a lot of reasons to sabotage the research. And while to someone muggle raised the theory might sound plausible, to purebloods it will sound outlandish. The concept of genetics is completely foreign to them."

"Besides," Hermione piped up, "It's not only the blood purists, who would want to hush this up. There is also a faction that wants to loosen the Statute of Secrecy."

"What!" exclaimed the first year Gryffindor. They can't do that!" She had paled. "Don't they know what they'd do to us, if they knew?"

"Wouldn't your theory be in favour of that faction?" Justin Finch-Fletchey frowned at Harry.

"I'm sure, they'd try to turn it in their favour," Harry admitted, "though some of the blood purists might change their focus from blood matters to magic matters."

"So?" Justin obviously did not see the point.

"A lot of Purebloods even are sensible enough not to care about blood. However, few wizards would deny that magic matters. It might unite the wizarding world against influences from the muggle world."

"It's what defines all of us. It could unite us," Hermione said passionately, "It might give us a place in the wizarding world, a place to belong!" She sounded so wistful and sadly enough that wistfulness was mirrored on the faces of every single one seated around the table.

"I will participate in the research," Terry Boot then said into the silence and the others soon followed. Hermione dug into her bag and took out the forms they had prepared.

"I'll call in another meeting as soon as I've got the results. I hope, we can take part in the test at Gringott's over the Easter holidays."

"On another note," Hermione said, "I've seen the tutoring demands in the new common room and I've noticed that a lot of them are muggle related. I think we should discuss among each other who would be best suited to each of them."

"I could take on muggle technology," Terry Boot volunteered, "I took my GCSE in physics, chemistry, electronics and engineering."

"When did you managed to do that?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Officially, I've been home schooled, since I've started Hogwarts. I've had private tutors every summer," Terry shrugged and Harry stared at him intrigued.

Private tutors were expensive, but then after having seen Terry's father at platform 9 ¾, he had already surmised that Terry's family had to be pretty well off.

With the matter of the muggleborn research taken care off for now, Harry had gathered information on the Gathering of Wizarding Importance and those likely to attend. He had grilled Neville, Blaise and Daphne for information on what he should expect. To some extent he had even grilled Draco, but they could not meet as often as he would have liked. They could not risk to seem too comfortable together too soon.

The matter of a date was still left unresolved. Harry was reminded of his dilemma before the Yule ball. Only this time it was even more complicated. The choice of his date would send a political message and, of course, his date, at least, should know proper wizarding etiquette, maybe give him some discrete pointers. After some very careful deliberation he had finally come to a decision. Now he only had to work up his nerve to act on it.

"Will you be my date for the Gathering of Wizarding Importance?" Harry asked, gnawing nervously at his lip, after he had brought Draco to a halt in front of the Great Hall right after dinner.

His sexual encounters with Draco - had been on and off, more like several sudden collisions than anything else. Asking him on an actual date seemed like a big step.

Who else could he have asked? This was no ordinary hand holding date but an event of the utmost political importance. That no one came to mind he'd like to ask on a date of a more romantic nature was beside the point. Malfoy, at least, knew his way around in this kind of function, stuck up people of influence locked into a room and playing nice.

"It will be my pleasure," Draco drawled after a long pause of looking thoughtfully into space. Now there was a gleam in his eyes. Surely, Malfoy recognized the significance of making an appearance as Harry Potter's date - publicly proclaiming his alignment with the light, while Harry himself proclaimed his commitment to wizarding tradition.

Unfortunately, dating Harry Potter also made Draco the obvious target for any Death Eater. Voldemort would know about his defection, would most likely consider it a deliberate provocation even, which had probably caused Draco's moment of indecision.

Political reasons aside, would Draco have agreed to go on a date with him, an ordinary hand holding date to - let's say - Hogsmeade? Harry was not even sure he himself would have liked to ask Malfoy on a date like that.

So far they were not even quite friends, more like friendly rivals. The attraction was undeniably there but that did not necessarily make a good couple. More often than not Draco was still driving him mad - not with lust but with rage. However, as it was, their date had a strong political impact for both of them and wondering in how far political reasons outweighed the decision was a moot point.

"I'm glad you agreed," Harry replied sincerely, "I'll pick you up on Friday seven thirty?"

"All right," Draco nodded regally and it sounded far more like he had just agreed on accompanying Harry to a battle than to a mere social event, but then in a way they were going to battle, a battle fought with words, instead of wands for now but a battle nonetheless.

"We should probably meet beforehand, so we can put our strategy together. We'd better present a united front," Draco added. The politics of the event had obviously taken a front seat on Draco's mind. Harry could work with that. It was not like Harry had the time to figure out the complications of romance, anyway.

"Definitely," Harry nodded curtly and with that Draco swept past him, leaving him surrounded by the gaping masses of students, having witnessed the exchange.

Hermione had her hands on her hips, although seemingly still processing the information, Neville was staring disbelievingly at him, Ginny and Blaise were exchanging a couple of meaningful looks.

"I would have gladly accompanied you to the ministry function," Ernie McMillan stepped forward, looking deeply troubled.

"Thank you," Harry said stiffly.

While the pompous Hufflepuff seemed nice, the very idea of going on any kind of date with him was giving him the creeps. And while Ernie McMillan probably knew the etiquette required to the letter, he did not seem to possess an ounce of cunning.

"But as you have just witnessed I already have a date," Harry added, hoping his icy tone of voice, would curb any attempts at changing his mind.

Having said all he was willing to say about the matter, Harry turned on his heel and marched up towards Gryffindor, or at least that had been his intention. He did not get very far, as he was soon bodily dragged off to an unused class room by Hermione and Ginny, with Neville, Daphne and Blaise hot on their heels.

Harry settled on a desk, while the others warded the room with what had become practised ease by now. When they felt the room was sufficiently warded, all eyes zoomed immediately in on Harry. Hermione's hands seemed to have become a permanent fixture to her hips, Zabinie's eyes gleamed with intrigue, while Neville seemed to hover between shock and incredulity. Ginny seemed for the most part thoughtful.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione started her tirade, only to be stopped by Daphne.

"You've got no right to berate him on his dating choices, peculiar as they may be."

"Not that peculiar, only so typically male," Hermione snipped. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It may have escaped your notice, but I am male," his voice was by now laced with an icy calm.

Obviously, he knew that Hermione was insinuating that he had only asked Malfoy because he was good looking. Surely, his attraction towards Malfoy was far more informed than his attraction to Cho had been. Recent conversations aside, he had fought with the guy for years, while he had never even exchanged more than a few words with Cho.

He did not have to justify who he was dating, although it seemed that Hermione was already so set on her self-righteous war path that she completely missed his warning. However, when she opened her mouth to dig herself in deeper, Blaise was faster.

"Then I must say that you are making typically Gryffindor assumptions. You'd better be careful with those. While I can by no means stand the guy, even I can see that there is far more to Draco Malfoy than a pretty face - or body," he added as an afterthought.

"Although I'd still be intrigued to know your reasoning for asking Draco Malfoy to be your date," he smirked.

"It is a political statement on both our parts," Harry admitted with a shrug, confident in his companions' ability to draw the right conclusions once they gave it some thought. Fed up with Hermione's pestering he added, "And besides he is rather good looking."

"Do you like him?" Neville inquired softly, still looking utterly amazed, although there was no censure in his gaze.

"I wouldn't voluntarily go on a date with him, if I couldn't stand him, would I." Not only wanted he to prevent a group discussion about his love - or perhaps more accurately sex life - , he still did not know the answers himself, either.

"I believe, you are still not aware of the impact your actions have got on wizarding Britain," Blaise cocked his head thoughtfully. Harry blinked.

"You see, your hand in marriage has become rather sought after, recently-," Blaise started delicately.

"I'm far too busy surviving this war to worry about marriage," Harry shook his head.

"It's true Harry," Neville mumbled, "Gran would have been ecstatic..."

"Anyway, people expect you to look for a spouse," Daphne explained, "Fighting a war will not count as an excuse with them."

"Besides a good match could be very helpful in the war," Blaise added.

"Right," Harry groaned, "I don't want my marriage to be some political scheme. Just that one thing about my life I want to be only for myself."

"I'm sure, Pansy Parkinson will be relieved to hear that you're not challenging her position as the future Malfoy spouse," Daphne said dryly. Harry felt his mouth opening on its own accord.

Draco was betrothed to Pansy Parkinson? Admittedly, he and Draco had by no means an exclusive relationship, but he would have thought that Draco would have mentioned something like that to - well - the one he was buggering around with in the mean time - or upon closer reflection, maybe he'd rather not. That would have been awkward.

"I think, Malfoy has found himself a nifty loophole there," Blaise smirked. "He can hardly marry her from the opposing side of war."

"He's never appeared particularly committed to his betrothal," Daphne smirked, "though Parkinson has tried to make it work, in a way."

"He could have simply called it off," Harry felt his thoughts swimming with the influx of new information.

"That would be highly insulting - a woman scorned ... ," Neville shuddered and then shook his head, "He needs a valid reason."

"Personal dislike does not count as a valid reason," Hermione said and then added with a blush, "I've done a bit of research, after the topic came up last time."

So it seemed that Draco had had to consider even more than the political ramifications of dating Harry Potter, and whether or not he could stand an evening in his company. He had also had to make up his mind, whether he wanted out of his pending arranged marriage.

"Obviously, now that you have asked him on a date as prestigious as the Gathering of Wizarding Importance, you're everyone's best guess as Malfoy's future spouse."

"What!" Harry shouted.

"A political alliance and physical attraction amounts to marriage - often enough, anyway."

"It would be considered a good match," Ginny piped up, her nose wrinkling, "personality clashes aside."

Now that everything was settled for Harry's attendance of the Gathering of Wizarding Importance, Harry found the time to persuade the still reluctant group to participate in a regular physical training schedule, which consisted mostly of dudging and minor spell casting to improve their aim. Neville had brought up the idea of implementing transfiguration, as well. He had pointed out that their magical snow ball fight over the Yule holidays had actually been a very inspring dueling experience.

They had scheduled their training an hour before curfew, as every training session pushed them to their limits, which caused them to leave the Room of Requirement barely standing after a quick shower. Afterwards they fell into bed, too exhausted to even think of doing anything else.

Harry thought that it might be a good idea to offer dueling with physical components as a tutoring course but then he decided to put it off for a little longer, at least. He already had enough on his mind. While the physical exhaustion helped to calm his nerves, Harry still felt rather squeezy, when he thought of the Gathering of Wizarding Importance, which unfortunately was never far from his mind.

Then the day had finally come. Lessons passed by in a trance like state for Harry. He felt sick to his stomach. Tonight was the Gathering of Wizarding Importance, the day he would meet the Who's Who of wizarding Britain with Draco Malfoy on his arm. He could have hardly come up with a more striking entrance, had he tried. A lot depended on his success. If he gained the support, or for a start at least the careful consideration of those assembled, his future plans would go over so much more smoothly.

All day his face had had an unbecoming yellowish tinge to it, his hands were sweaty and much to his horrified consternation from time to time they were even slightly trembling. This was not helping matters at all.

Finally, it was time to get ready and Harry dressed in yet another set of new dress robes that adhered to the strictest wizarding dress codes, which actually dated back to the time wizards had still been honoured advisers at the British court. They had never adhered to muggle fashion but held a unique role at court, wish was emphasized by an equally unique dress style.

Draco had advised him on what to wear. Harry himself could not make out any distinctive difference between the various styles. They looked all the same to him, anyway, although he had to admit that he liked the result. The shimmering silk and wool robe was just about touching the floor, its high collar accentuated by a tasteful brooch. He looked Pureblood and very conscious of tradition, which was exactly the effect he had been aiming for.

Purposefully, Harry strode towards the entrance of Slytherin, where he was supposed to pick up Draco. While he was waiting for his date, he felt the panic from earlier rise, again. Was the crash course on wizarding customs he had been taking since summer really enough to get through a formal social event without committing a horrendous blunder? So much depended on it.

The wall in front of the entrance to Slytherin opened up. Draco looked – Harry gulped – angelic. Of course, he knew, Draco was anything but, but the blueish light grey robe, kept in the same style as Harry's, combined with his almost white hair, made him look like a single spot of light. Of course, Draco also looked remarkably like a younger copy of his father, which was unsettling given his history with Lucius Malfoy. Nevertheless, there was no denying the fact that Draco looked breath takingly hot.

"You look amazing," Harry fell back on the standard phrase, expected from a date, far too dazed to come up with anything else.

"You too," Draco smirked and stayed rooted to the spot in front of the entrance to Slytherin.

"Well, shall we?" Harry asked.

"Won't you offer me your arm?" Draco stared imploringly at him and Harry stared cluelessly back.

"Huh, sure," he walked up to him and held out his arm. Then he took out the portkey that had been sent with the invitation. It was a small stone coin engraved with the ministry coat of arms.

Harry felt the usual tug at his navel and the slightly dizzying sensation and found himself in the Atrium of the Ministry of magic. Their entrance at the Reception Hall literally turned all heads. They made a formidable couple. Draco had cloaked himself in a thick sheen of cocky Malfoy pride, his head held high, as he strode in on Harry's arm, his eyes challenging. Harry straightened his back. He smirked fondly at Draco and received an acknowledging nod in return.

Harry let his gaze wander across the Hall. It was decorated by wreaths interwoven with the first spring flowers.

"Wheel of life," Draco indicated at the wreaths in a hushed whisper, upon seeing where Harry's was lingering.

Then Draco introduced Harry to several of the small groups of people that had gathered everywhere in the Hall.

"Harry, let me introduce you to Cethin Runcorn," Draco steered him towards a very tall wizard. He held himself proudly, his brown hair tied back with a ribbon. Upon seeing Harry Potter approaching with Draco Malfoy on his arm, his moustache twitched in a suppressed sneer.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Runcorn," Harry offered a carefully measured half bow in greeting.

"Mr Potter, the pleasure is all mine," Runcorn swept into what was not quite a half bow, a barely notable difference, but far from accidental. In a society where so much importance was placed upon the depth of a bow, someone as polished as Runcorn would not slip up.

It was a test. Runcorn had come off as perfectly polite to someone unaware of the customs. Now that he had it figured out, he needed to come up with a way to convey his respect for wizarding customs and that he was indeed worthy of respect.

"Sure it is," Harry allowed a small twinge of displeasure cross his face. Draco steered him to yet another wizard.

"And this is Pius Thicknese"

"Pleasure," Harry bowed. He hated this. It was dull and tiring.

A short while later a bell rang, calling to dinner.

"To life and magic," the toast echoed through the Hall. Observing those around him, Harry mused that maybe the notion of the toast being the only sincere statement made at a formal social gathering was not as far off as he had first assumed.

Dinner passed with superficial banter, laced with hidden insults. At least the food was great, even if a little too fancy for his taste. Harry had never particularly had a craving for giant squid in sherry sauce, but luckily more normal dishes were served as well.

After dinner Minister Scrimgour gave his report on the State of Wizarding Britain. He talked about taxes, investments, laws being passed, security. While all of it was important, it was also incredibly dull, just like the whole evening had been unpleasant so far.

Harry hated politics and felt confirmed in his belief that politicians were an unpleasant lot. Too bad his life might hinge on the course of politics. Harry had difficulties staying awake. Only Draco's discreet pinches kept him from falling into a light slumber.

Then Scrimgour introduced Harry as his guest of honour. Apparently, Harry could not have been invited as a regular, as he was not of age, yet. Finally, he asked Harry to introduce himself.

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said, as he rose to his feet and marched up to the small podium in front of the dining table. Harry had not been prepared to hold a speech, nor did he know that he was supposed to be the minister's guest of honour.

So Scrimgour wanted Harry to make a fool of himself. Harry needed to make something up on the spot. Scrimgour would have to learn that Harry was not to be trifled with. Apparently, he had not properly learnt that lesson the first time around.

Harry stepped onto the podium and looked at Draco, who looked as surprised as Harry felt and was anxiously biting his lip. Harry gave him what he hoped to be a reassuring nod. Then he surveyed his audience for a moment. Griselda Marchbanks and Amelia Bones were present and smiling encouragingly at him. Dumbledore was surveying him over his halfmoon glasses.

"I'm deeply honoured to be here tonight," Harry took a deep breath, "And admittedly taken by surprise that I am to speak to you as a whole." At this point he raised an eyebrow at Scrimgour, which did not go unnoticed by his audience and as accustomed to political intrigues as they were, they were likely to draw the same conclusions as Harry had.

They would conclude that Scrimgour felt that Harry was a threat to his power, which would certainly not impress anyone. Harry Potter was still underage, after all, but even then, for the Minister of Magic to feel threatened by him, there had to be something interesting about him.

"Nevertheless, I thank you for this opportunity to properly introduce myself to you," Harry continued. It was a great opportunity to clear up the impression the majority of the wizarding world had of him, even if he would have liked to come a little more prepared, but Harry had always been good at thinking on his feet.

"I'm aware that a lot of books have been written about me, a lot of articles published. The puzzling thing is that I have never been asked about my opinion. It is generally assumed that I support the mixing of our world with the muggle world." Harry paused and then raised his voice, "I do not."

"I'm not sure how many of you are aware of the fact that I have been brought up in the muggle world, against my will, I should add. Growing up among muggles is not a pleasant experience for a magical child, which I'm sure most muggleborns would confirm. We stand out, we are bullied, abused."

"While I don't think muggles are inferior, muggles and magic don't mix well," Harry stated, "Some muggles are nice individuals. In masses they are dangerous. There are six billion muggles worldwide as of now. Their weapons far surpass our own. We should mix as little as possible. Again, this is something the muggleborns at Hogwarts agree on." Harry was suddenly relieved that he had been parroting the same thing to a lot of different people over the course of the year. While it had been annoying at time, the words came now easily to him.

"Muggelborns are not truly given a place among us, while having no place among muggles, neither. I think, it is high time we took care of our own," Harry took a deep breath.

"I know the integration of muggleborns is a sore topic for a lot of you. And you are right: they still behave like muggles, even if they are magical. However, that is hardly surprising, as they have never been properly educated on our culture," Harry looked at his audience. Draco looked relieved. Apparently, Harry was doing well. The rest of his audience was frowning thoughtfully. Scrimgour was squirming in his seat. Harry smirked.

"I'm aware that talking about those matters is deemed inapropriate. However, what I am talking about is not the integration of muggleborns and their culture but the assimilation of muggleborn witches and wizards into our culture." Harry paused.

"Our numbers are dwindling. The upcoming war will not help matters. Magical blood will be spilled. With the increasing attacks on muggles, the muggles will catch on sooner or later. It's only a question of time. It is only a question of time before we are extinct. Muggleborns are more often than not magicallly strong. We need them for our world to flourish."

"We should not fight among ourselves. We should take care of our own, at last." Harry called out with a strong voice.

"Thank you," Harry bowed and stepped down.

He retook his seat next to Draco.

"You did well," Draco whispered with a glint in his eyes.

"I hope so," Harry said quietly, "Did I come on too strong?"

"Not sure subtlety would have gotten through to them," Draco whispered back. "Obviously, you've stepped on the toes of almost all present by disregarding etiquette completely."

Dinner was over and people were mingling once again. Harry steered Draco towards Amelia Bones.

"Madam Bones," Harry bowed, "It's a pleasure to see you, again."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr Potter," Susan's aunt replied, "I've heard a lot about you recently. My niece is very fond of you," she beamed, "Your speech tonight has only confirmed that you have grown into a fine young man indeed."

"May I introduce you to Draco Malfoy?" Harry then asked.

"Draco, meet Madame Bones," Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

"It's an honour," Draco kissed her offered hand.

"Harry, my boy. That was quite the speech, you gave there," Dumbledore approached them.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry inclined his head in thanks. He knew there was some hidden reprimand, but saw no reason to acknowledge it.

"Mr Potter," came the scratchy voice of Griselda Marchbanks and Harry turned towards her, thankful for an excuse to get rid of Dumbledore.

"Madame Marchbanks," Harry smiled at the old witch.

"You've held the speech with the most controversy since I can remember. Hopefully, it will do some good."

Harry and Draco stepped aside after a while. They were leaning against the balcony, looking up into the stars, breathing in the cooling night air and soaking up the silence, when they heard crisp foot steps.

"Young Mr Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you," Percy Weasley greeted with a deep bow.

Draco all of the sudden turned awkward. What did he have to feel awkward for around a Weasley or rather this specific Weasley. Obviously, they had known each other from Hogwarts - at least in passing. However, that did not explain the awkward undercurrent. Awkward - there was really no other word for it and it seemed to be contagious, as Harry started to shift uneasily on his feet as well.

"Mr Weasley - So we meet, again. " Draco stated stiffly.

"May I inquire as to your father's health?" Percy was biting his lip nervously.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Draco's voice had turned frosty. Surely, questions about his imprisoned father had to be hurtful but somehow Harry felt that there was something more than met the eye going on behind the scenes.

"He is a good man," Percy claimed full of conviction.

Harry stared at him incredulously. So he had started to rather like Draco but under no circumstances would he call his father _a good man_. Cunning, ambitious, classy, maybe but _good_ definitely did not cut it.

Percy had always been a suck up to those holding more power and influence than himself. However, he was also a stickler to the rules and as of now Lucius Malfoy was residing in an Azkaban cell and had no actual power or influence. There was nothing to be gained from proclaiming loyalty to the man, quite the contrary, in fact - unless he was for whatever reasons trying to suck up to Draco?

"I don't want to impose on your time any longer than I already did," Percy bowed stiffly. His lips were trembling. "It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure has been all mine," Draco responded mechanically giving a small courteous bow, as well. At least, it did not sound like he meant it.

"Potter," Percy's bow now was no more than a nod. Surely, by Percy's logic, gaining favour with Harry Potter would be far more advantageous than doing whatever he thought he was doing with Draco? Just what was going on? The awkwardness - everything - hinted to a sexual history and Harry could not help but feel nauseated by that idea.

"Weasley," Harry inclined his head towards Percy. He had taught himself the proper etiquette for when he actually needed it but it was not as ingrained into him as into Pureblood raised wizards like Draco. He also saw no need to participate in an empty parody of niceties, when there was nothing to be gained from it. As it was he had yet to forgive Percy's stunts from last year.

"I hope this won't drag on for much longer. I'd like to get back." Draco sighed after Percy's departure.

"Me too," Harry said, "What has that been about?" He was not particularly thrilled by the prospect of having his theory about Draco and Percy confirmed, but he just needed to know.

"What do you mean?" Draco mumbled.

"Percy Weasley," Harry said.

"Oh," Draco shifted his feet.

"So?"

"He was an acquaintance of my father." Draco whispered in a rush, a furious blush rushing to his cheeks.

Lucius Malfoy had been 'funding' Fudge, so it made sense that they had met at the ministry of magic a couple of times but that did not explain the tension that had been in the air, nor did it justify Draco blushing so furiously.

"I figured," Harry nodded, "But, obviously, that's not all."

"He's been to dinner at the manor a couple of times," Draco squirmed when Harry only raised a prompting eyebrow.

"They were ACQUAINTANCES," Draco hissed, darting anxious glances at the groups of people standing close by. His blush was rapidly spreading down his neck.

"Acquaintances?" Harry repeated blankly.

How was that anything to blush about - unless - acquaintances? Was that the flowery Pureblood code for "They were having an affair?"

Harry had to admit that Lucius Malfoy was handsome for a man his age and his commanding air had probably held an appeal to Percy who had always been drawn to power.

Malfoy Senior had probably enjoyed the obedient devotion of the much younger man and might have used his influence to boost Percy's career. He also might have liked the idea of getting one over Arthur Weasley, his arch enemy since their Hogwarts days - even though Mr Weasley would probably never know about it. How long had that been going on?

Harry had to admit that being approached by your father's secret lover had far more potential for awkwardness than what his own mind had been able to cook up. Merlin, not only was Percy almost Draco's age, there was also Mrs Malfoy to consider.

Had Lucius Malfoy really brought Percy home - to dine with his family? Had Mrs Malfoy known? Probably - if Draco knew. So had Lucius formally introduced him as his lover? It seemed ridiculous but Harry was so out of his depth, that everything seemed possible.

"I'm glad it's over," Harry said half an hour later, stretched out on the couch in Slytherin's study, having draped his outer robe over an arm chair.

"At least, it was a success," Draco remarked.

"It was," Harry acknowledged. He felt worn out after having been stuck with a bunch of 'important people' for a small eternity enclosed into four seemingly never ending hours, felt the strain of attempting to be witty and charming and then the whole concept of Percy and Lucius Malfoy was all too mind boggling.

"We're working well together," Draco remarked suddenly. Harry blinked.

"Obviously. Who would have thought - Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being a great team."

"That's not the only way we work well together," Draco smirked and put a hand on Harry's knee.

"Mm," Harry said still stuck on the fact that Percy Weasley seemed to have a crush on Draco's father and what that meant, where it placed Percy in the grand scheme of things. However, somehow it did not seem likely Draco would be up for a lengthy discussion about Percy.

"You can't seem to keep your mind out of the gutter, can you?" he dissembled therefore.

"It's your fault," Draco exclaimed.

"What did I do?"

"Watching you boss around political prodigies without batting an eyelash was really turning me on. To think that I've had you scream my name, that I have been so close to you..." Draco's drawl could not hide the blush.

"Slytherins really are drawn to power like moths to flame, aren't they. I thought you'd have learnt by now." Harry smirked, although it was a heady feeling to have Draco react like that to him.

Apparently, his long robes had hidden the shaking of his legs, when he had marched up to the podium. He had been a nervous wreck. At least, that had not been too obvious then.

"I can't help it. Besides, it's not power in itself that I'm attracted to. I've certainly never been attracted to the Dark Lord."

"I should hope not. He's hideous." Harry mock sneered.

"It's more how you use the power you've got. You..." Draco shuddered. "You're not afraid to use your power, if need be. Yet you don't abuse your power. I really like this new you" Obviously, Draco became aware of his rambling, for he asked rather abruptly.

"Aren't you at least a little turned on by displays of power?"

Until this summer Harry would have vehemently denied that displays of power held any appeal to him, but power as he had perceived it until then, had always been abusive and had rarely been used to his advantage.

Yet he could not deny the spark of pride he had felt, when he had sauntered into the reception hall at the ministry with Draco on his arm. Draco's stiff and yet cocky posture had appeared very endearing to him, although it had infuriated him for years. Tonight, however, he had been cocky for Harry's benefit and that had made a huge difference.

His eyes had been filled with a keen intelligence and cunning, while his whole posture conveyed the knowledge that he was someone. Indeed Harry had felt his heart beat quicken every time he had looked at Draco. So yes he as well was not immune to displays of power. The knowledge that he'd had this man under his control, was incredibly erotic.

He did understand were Draco was coming from then. Only it had usually been still him, Harry, in control, when it came to sex, and well everything since they had formed their truce. Suddenly, Harry very much wanted to take a break from being in control. He had been proving his control all night.

Harry slowly rose from his spot on the couch and then knelt down in front of Draco. He looked up at Draco and pushed up Draco's dress robes. Then he stopped and stared Draco in the eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked from his kneeling position on the granite floor. Draco held his gaze, then smirked, his eyes darkening.

"Undress me," he licked his lips.

Harry opened the bottoms of Draco's dress robes and then slid them over his head.

"Stop" Draco said then, "You undress first."

Harry took off his under robe - two layered robes being the traditional dress code for formal occasions. Underneath he only wore some boxers, which he slid off next. He stood starkers safe for his boots in front of Draco's hungry gaze. He bent down to take off his boots as well but Draco stopped him.

"Keep them on," he said with a hint of impatience. Harry acquiesced and turned to take off the rest of Draco's clothes. Draco remained seated lazily, his legs spread widely, Harry kneeling in between them.

"Now what do I do with you?" Draco smirked.


	36. Chapter 36

**Thank you for your reviews! I'm sorry for the long wait. I've been suffering from a severe case of writer's block. However, I went over all former chapters and started to add in important scenes. The improved version will be up soon and then there will be Luna as well. I'm glad you like the character developement so far. It's very difficult to get them where I need them for the final show down, while trying to keep it believable. A large portion of scenes for future chapters is already written as well.  
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**This chapter you will find out a little more of just what Draco wants with Harry. I'm surprised that none of you have figured it out yet. I had thought I had left enough hints but my writing personality seems to be much more subtle than I thought.  
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**As for muggle accomplishments: There will be more of that! However, I don't want Harry to have too many great ideas that make everything easier. There has to be some struggle to keep up the tension, which is why Harry will get the idea to use a pensieve very late in the story or not all.**

**Getting someone who normally does not read Slash to read my story is a great compliment. I'm glad you like it and hope you keep reading, blackpheonix.**

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**Chapter 36**

The morning after the Gathering of Wizarding importance Harry sat slightly groggy at breakfast. The night had been far too short, even though it had ended rather pleasantly. Around him the Great Hall was buzzing with excited whispers, lulling him in. Obviously, people were comparing notes on what the grape vine said had happened at the Gathering, but in his current state Harry could not bring himself to listen.

"How dare you," a voice shrieked shrilly, "You have no right! You never even tried to make it work! I would be a worthy addition to your family! And you're throwing it all away - for him!"

Harry looked up. Pansy Parkinson had clutched Draco's wrists. Only after he had asked Draco out had he been told that Draco was betrothed to her. Had Draco not called it of, officially then? How did that work anyway? Hopefully, Pansy would not be out for his blood now.

"Pansy," Draco said loudly, "You're making a scene. Let's discuss this in private, shall we," he added urgently.

"A scene?" Pansy laughed hysterically, "I'm making a scene, he says – even though it was he who has made a fool of me! How dare you!"

"Pansy!" Draco snapped and steered her out of the Great Hall. Harry groaned. He would definitely have to have a talk with Draco.

"Maybe you should offer Miss Parkinson the chance to safe grace," Neville patted Harry on the arm.

"How?" Harry asked. He had stolen her betrothed or so it would seem to her. It was not that he had intended to do so – hell, he had not even known. What could he do though?

"You can't ever speak of it. It would appear you're purposefully rubbing it in. However, you can like ... try to repair the damage done to her public image." Neville seemed to carefully measure his words, as if he feared Harry might explode in a fit of rage any momemt now.

Harry had thought he had gotten better at controlling his temper, but at least its image had not improved as of yet.

"Better to let it rest for now though," Ginny said, "Let her cool off first. Besides you can't be too obvious about it."

"Right," Harry sighed. Harry had endeavoured to hone his cunning, but some intricacies of wizarding social niceties completely eluded him. It did not help that he had come no closer to understanding the female frame of mind. It seemed illogical, petty and at the same time overly emotional – a mystery he would likely never have to investigate up close.

"Public image," Hermione shook her head, "You really think that's her top priority?"

"No," Neville shook his head, "but Harry is in no position to even acknowledge the heartbreak."

"But..." Hermione said heatedly.

"He's already taken her betrothed. Is he supposed to take her dignity as well?" Ginny hissed.

Hermione huffed.

After classes Harry steered Draco to an unused class room once again. Together they silently warded the room.

"So what has that been about at breakfast this morning?" Harry blurted out, too impatient to dance around the topic in a proper Slytherin manner.

"Of course, you've heard that," Draco pinched his nose, "Pansy had been looking forward to become the next Mrs Malfoy. Obviously, I annuled our betrothal officially after I had accepted your invitation to the Gathering of Wizarding Importance. All that gossip about who had done what at the Gathering got her started all over again."

"I had only recently become aware of the fact that you were betrothed to her, at all. Why haven't you ever told me?"

"I thought, it was common knowledge," Draco sneered distastefully, though the sneer did not seem to be dierected at Harry.

"I guess, I should have been able to piece it together," Harry frowned, "She's been constantly hanging on your arm and all over you."

"I didn't know you were observing our interactions that closely," Draco smirked.

"I hope, I didn't cause you too much of an inconvenience," Harry said stiffly.

"Of course not, or I would have declined your offer," Draco waved away his concerns, "I have been looking for a way out for almost as long as I can remember, although I've had little hope for an opportunity presenting itself."

"So you've never wanted to marry Pansy Parkinson?" Harry frowned.

"No," Draco stared incredeously at Harry, "Would you want to marry her?"

"No, of course not," Harry huffed. Pansy was a girl after all. That was quite beside the point though, as Harry's and Draco's views on marriage seemed to differ so greatly, anyway.

"A penchant for hysterics is a common trait with the females of the Parkinson line and it seems to get worse, the older they get. With how she is now I certainly don't want to be around to find out how she is like in – let's say - thirty years," Draco explained.

"That's your reason?" Harry asked.

"Among other things, yes," Draco confirmed, "Also ideally my spouse should be someone I can respect and who respects me in return."

"What about love?" Harry blurted out.

"How can you love someone you don't respect?. If there is no respect, even infatuation can't grow into something stronger."

"Maybe," Harry hummed, "But don't you think that sometimes one has to take a leap of faith?"

"And be stuck with someone you can't stand for what would likely be more than a hundred years?!" Draco exclaimed incredeously, " Hell no!"

Harry blinked. He tended to forget how old wizards and witches got. For muggles 60 years of marriage was a long time, but not only married wizards younger, but the average lifespann for magical people was 150 years.

"It would be nice to have a partnership where despite temporary disagreements, one can always rely on the other when it really counts." Draco said longingly.

Despite the rather rational explanation, Harry realized this was what he wished for as well. Only he would have called it true love. This was probably the Gryffindor in him speaking.

"You know, that almost sounds romantic," Harry smirked and Draco scowled.

"So what does your mother think of you breaking the betrothal? She can't be too happy about that?"

"She could not find fault with my reasoning that it would be impractical to marry someone who is supporting the opposing side of war," Draco explained, apparently quite pleased with himself.

"So now you are supposed to find a more suitable match?" Harry asked somewhat dismayed, although he did not quite know at what.

"In a way, although I have been alotted a little more time. I convinced her that I should be given time until after the war," Draco said and Harry felt relief flood him.

"Right," Harry said.

"I only hope Miss Parkinson wont give us too much trouble," Harry said after a small pause.

"Usually, dignity would dictate for her to leave us alone, but with Pansy hystercis override common sense more often than not." Draco shuddered.

Gryffindors did not seem to interpret dignity the same way as Slytherins did, Harry thought, for in his house public and highly emotional breakups were a common occurrence.

"What are we to each other, anyway?" Draco asked then.

Not long ago, Harry would have interpreted his posture as haughty, yet now he recognized it as a way to cover his insecurity. Beneath the proud and often annoying exterior was hidden a very vulnearable young man, who also possessed an inner strength and cunning that Harry had come to admire greatly. With a start Harry realized that he really and truly liked Draco Malfoy.

"I don't know," Harry said still a little dazed.

"I do like you a lot." Harry blurted out his latest realization.

"I'm glad," Draco said, "I like you as well. So are we officially dating then?"

Harry had already established that he was attracted to Draco and liked him a lot. But did he trust him? Harry found that just as his affection had gradually grown over the last months, trust had crept in as well, but could he trust him? Harry felt sure that as long as Draco's mother and, to a certain extent his father, as well, were not in danger, he could trust him. Family comes first - Harry understood that.

But was he ready for any long term committments with the war hanging over his head? Did he have time to spare on an actual relationship? Was that even fair to Draco? But Harry did not wont to give Draco up. Selfishly, he wanted, wanted something for himself, wanted to live, wanted to be with Draco. Being with Draco made him feel alive.

"I would like that," Harry smiled wistfully, then carded his fingers through his hair. How was he supposed to say that he did not want to commit himself, yet did not want to let Draco go, without sounding like the prat, he felt he was? "I think, it would only be fair to tell you that I don't know, whether I'm truly ready to have a relationship at present with all that's going on. I don't even know, whether I've got the time for all that comes with that."

Harry thought of visits to Madam Puddifoot's, strolling hand in hand through Hogsmeade and other activities couples at Hogwarts typically indulged in.

"Like what?" Draco looked at Harry, his shoulders squared, his jaw firmly set. Apparently, he was expecting to be set up for a gentle rejection.

"Oh, you know," Harry desperately waved his hands, "All that typical couple stuff."

"I have been quite pleased with the way things were," Draco said, "I was just wondering, whether we would continue to have episodes of random sex, or if we're having something a little more permanent. As for all that's hanging over your head, I'll stand by you every step of the way, anyway, that is, if you let me. I would think that would sufficiently qualify as couple stuff."

"Oh", Harry blinked, "I'd like that."

"Good," Draco closed in on him, yanked the front of his robes and pulled Harry into a heated kiss.

What was left of the time until dinner, when Harry finally left the unused class room, Harry busied himself with the homework that had accumulated during the last week. He had simply been too preoccupied by the feeling of doom brought on by the ever nearing Gathering of Wizarding Importance to get anything done. Now that was finally over, he should have been able to concentrate again, but Harry found that his thoughts tended to always drift back to Draco, his boyfriend. Boyfriend. He liked the sound of that. It was new and exciting and he could not quite believe it, yet.

Hermione had joined him in the Gryffindor common room, but instead of vanishing into one of her books as she usually did, Harry caught her frowning thoughtfully at him, whenever he looked up, day dreaming or mulling a question over in his mind. It seemed that Harry himself had become Hermione's most recent research project.

In the evening Harry was scheduled to meet up with Dumbledore. On one hand, Harry hoped to finally weedle the final pieces concerning of the puzzle concerning Voldemort's horcruxes out of Dumbledore. On the other hand, he dreaded seeing the man so soon after his controversal speech at the gathering of Wizarding Importance. Surely, Dumbledore would have a lot of things to say to him.

When Harry slipped into the seat in fornt of the Headmaster's desk, he was greeted with the usual congenial twinkle he had come to recognize as Dumbledore's mask. If the man was indeed displeased with Harry's behaviour at the Gathering of Wizarding Importance he did not let it show but then Dumbledore usually hid his thoughts behind that jovial mask.

"Are you prepared to move on with our lessons then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course," Harry answered.

"Now I have already told you that I think, Tom Riddle would have made objects that have a certain grandeur of themselves into Horcruxes. Now I think you are also aware that he considered Hogwarts his real home and that he took great pride in being a decendant of Salazar Slytherin. It is therefore my belief that he has made historical relics connected to the founders into Horcruxes."

Harry nodded slowly as he processed this. He could understand the sentiment of Hogwarts as home. He quite felt the same. Incasing pieces of his very soul into Horcruxes might have also felt to Tom Riddle like it made himself more noble, more connected to his wizarding roots as well – negating his muggle upbringing and muggle father somewhat. He had killed his muggle family in the process of making Horcruxes. So from Tom Riddle's point of view his Horcruxes had been more than a way to immortality but also one to 'purify' himself from his muggleness and to improve himself. It was almost scary how well he sometimes felt he could connect with the future Dark Lord. It was not that Harry himself felt the need to get rid of anything muggle in himself but rather that he could possibly imagine the thought process even behind something so vile as the creation of Horcruxes.

"I do believe you are right, Sir," Harry said at last.

"With that in mind are you ready for another trip down memory lane?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry nodded.

"I took it upon myself to search for objects of that kind that have disappeared around young Mr Riddle at that time. After leaving Hogwarts Tom Riddle started as a shop assistant at Burgin and Burkes to the surprise of many, seeing as he had top marks and could have chosen a much more prestigious career. But Tom Riddle was no mere shop assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Burgin and Burke's, which specialises, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade peeople to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this." Dumbledore said.

"I'll bet he was," Harry said. The Tom Riddle in the diary had been incredibly charming, after all. Harry also knew that he was unscruplous – the ideal traits for the job.

"We will now visit the memory of Hepziabah Smith's houseelve Hokey," Dumbledore concluded as he tipped the memory into the pensieve.

"After you, Harry," Dumbledore made a sweeping motion to enter the pensieve before him.

Harry stuck his head into the basin and felt the typical falling sensation that went along with entering a memory. Then Harry took a look at his surrounding. The space was even more cluttered than Slughorn's quarters. Stuffy armchairs almost hidden under the pink and rose frill and lots of antique looking objects were arranged in a way that made it impossible to overlook them, as one was always prone to fall over them. Then Harry saw an enormously fat old woman dressed in a sea of pink frill. She also wore a rather ugly wig. Harry suddered.

Apparently, the women went to great lengths to make herself more presentable. However, her efforts were not rewarded with success. The rouge she dabbed on her already scarlet cheeks made her look like a clown.

Together with her houseelf, Hokey, she prepared for the arrival of Tom Riddle, who she was clearly besotted with.

The houseelf looked sick, her skin almost transparent, wrinkly and dry like parchment, a far cry from the exuberant magical being Harry had come to consider houseelves.

Tom Riddle definitely had his way with women. He had even brought flowers. Mrs Smith made a show of pretenting to be surprised but had Hokey place them in an empty vase conveniently placed at the nearest table.

Tom Riddle had not yet lost his handsomeness but was by now clearly recognizable as Voldemort. His cheeks had hollowed, making him appear less boyish and more quietly sinister – a look that certainly suited him, Harry had to admit.

Tom Riddle layed the charm on thick, playing the humble shop assistant and flirting with the enarmoured witch. Thus Mrs Smith ordered Hokey to show him her finest treasure, which turned out to be Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket.

Harry took careful note of what they looked like. The cup was golden with two handles. It was ornamented with runes Harry did not recognize and a badger which Tom had identified as Hufflepuff's crest. Slytherin's locket was golden as well, adorned with an ornate serpentine S. Harry attempted to imprint those images to his memory.

He also noted Tom Riddle's unwillingness to part with the locket. Tom must have felt that it was his by right. When Mrs Smith told him of how it came into her possession, Harry could emphasize with Tom's darkening expression. Burgin had hoodwinked his mother, who had also been poor and naïve – clearly not someone Tom would be proud of but his mother nonetheless.

"Time to leave, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts. Together they left the pensieve and Harry settled back into his chair in fornt of the desk.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore, resuming his seat behind his desk as well, "Hokey was convicted by the ministry of poisening her mistress' evening cocao by accident."

"But it was Tom Riddle who killed her, obviously," Harry said. He was no longer astonished by the injustice towards magical beings when it came to the ministry or wizarding society in general. Nevertheless, he felt sorry for the poor elf.

"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore, " Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and the death of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death."

The poor elf had to have been overcome by guilt. Houseelves aimed to protect what they considered their family, even if to them they were no more than convenient slaves. However, Harry kept his thoughts to himself.

"So Voldemort modefied her memory like he did with Morfin?" Harry more stated than asked.

"Very good," Dumbledore beamed proudly at him, "Yes, I concluded that as well."

"By the time Hokey was convicted Hepzibah's family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her possessions most jealously. But before they were beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Burgin and Burke's, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His supperiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone else at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time." Dumbledore concluded.

"You recognize the significance of those objects, steeped deeply in Hogwarts' history. He could not resist them. I think, he still felt a strong pull towards the school, his true home as he saw it. There were other reasons as well, I think. I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you in due will be the last memory I will have to show you." Dumbledore paused.

"Ten years seperate Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldermort was doing."

Harry stood up and stepped towards the pensieve, while Dumbledore exchanged the last memory with a new one.

"Whose memory is it?" Harry asked.

"Mine," said Dumbledore.

Harry dove into the memory after Dumbledore and landed in the very room he had just left but with two Dumbledore's in the room with him, one of them a mere memory. The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something. Then there was knock on his door.

"Enter," Dumbledore said, his tone of voice oddly severe and very far from its usual joviality.

The reason became clear only a moment later, when Harry saw just whose arrival the headmaster had been waiting for. Voldemort!

Indeed this man was no longer Tom Riddle but far closer to the present day Voldemort. His features appeared blurred, almost melted, twisted. Tom Riddle had already given up huge parts of himself. Surely, his appearance was largely caused by the creation of horcruxes. Bellatrix Lestrange was a dark witch, evil and insane, and yet her appearance had not been altered by the darkness, except for a distinct gauntness and that mad feverish glint in her eyes.

"Good evening Tom," Dumbledore said, his tone friendly, yet slightly condescending in the way of older people towards those they had seen grown up, unable to grasp that they had long since reached adulthood and should be met on equal ground,

"Won't you sit down?" Dumbledore gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Thank you," said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured. Harry felt an uncanny sense of déjà vue creep up on him, raising the hairs on his neck. The seat seemed to be the very seat Harry himself had sat on only moments ago and so many times before.

"I heard that you had become headmaster," Voldemort said, once he was properly seated, "A worthy choice."

"I'm glad you approve, "said Dumbledore smiling, "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome," said Voldemort, "I have come a long way."

Even his voice seemed to have changed. It sounded colder, higher, more empty, yet still very powerful, maybe more so than before.

Dumbledore served the two of them a goblet of wine from his cabinet.

"So, Tom to what do I owe the pleasure."

"They do not call me Tom any more," Voldemort said after having taken a sip of his wine, "These days I am known as -"

"I know what you are known as," Dumbledore interrupted him, "But to me you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one irritating thing about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

"Irritating indeed," Harry thought, not that he himself would want to change his name or anything like that, but Dumbledore rarely acknowledged that at some point in life children matured and gradually became adults. At his age almost everyone was probably still a child in the headmaster's eyes. He could emphasize with Voldemort's annoyance in regards to that, which was quite disconcerting. Lately, Harry found that more often than not he got an inkling on Voldemort's thoughts and feelings in a given situation. Surely, this was taking the motto of know thy enemy a little too far?

Dumbledore raised his glass to a silent toast, while Tom's face remained expressionless. Harry felt a shift in the atmoshere of the room. Tom Riddle was far more experienced in those Slytherin verbal dances than Harry. Therefore, he had easily recognized Dumbledore's refusal to use his chosen name for what it was – a refusal to let Voldemort dictate the terms of the meeting.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort then, "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," said Dumbledore, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds."

Dumbledore surely did more than hone young minds in an accademic sense. At Hogwarts he was in the position to influence impressionable young minds as he saw fit. Dumbledore had quite the political clout as well as a member of the Wizengamot, power which he could comfortably direct from behind his desk at the headmaster's office at Hogwarts,

"If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching, too."

"I see it still, "said Voldemort, "I merely wondered why you – who is so often asked for advice by the ministry and who has twice, I think been offered the post of minister - "

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore, "But the ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

But only because Dumbledore felt more comfortable manipulating things from behind the scenes without the hassle of proper ministry procedure, as he was mostly acting in an inofficial capacity, Harry thought, which indeed was Voldemort's reason as well. However, Voldemort was far more focussed on destruction than on changing the wizarding world. Politics would only slow him down. He would suddenly have to concern himself with laws, gaining majorities in the Wizengamot, instead of simply scaring or killing his opposition off.

"I have returned," said Voldemort, "after a little while, later perhaps than Professor Dippet expected... but I have returned nevertheless, to request again what he had once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore regarded Voldemort quitely, his gaze measuring, evaluating, judging. It was the very same look he had given the eleven year old Tom Riddle at the orphanage when they had first met. As if he had known all along what would become of the boy. Dumbledore had indeed been proven right but for how much of it was Dumbledore to blame?

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," Dumbledore finally said, "rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

"Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore," Voldemort retorted his mask firmly in place.

"You call it greatness, what you have been doing, do you?" Dumbledore said, his tone of voice plainly showing that he disagreed.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, I have experimented, pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed."

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him, "Of others, you remain ... forgive me ... woefully ignorant.

Love. It was always love with Dumbledore. Obviously, with his upbringing Voldemort did not know love, did not understand the strength of friendship, the power of love. Voldemort's mother had not survived the birth of her son, while Harry's mother had sacrificed her life for Harry out of love and had thus managed to save her son. It always saddened Harry, that he had no memory of being loved so deeply. His only memory of his mother were the moments before her death. Harry himself had yet to feel a love so deep, so fierce. Yet, he cared deeply for his friends. He had also seen the dynamics of a loving family, craved it and could see its value. The twins had even hinted that body armours relied on those very emotions.

It was partly Dumbledore's fault that Harry was mostly ignorant when it came to the power of love as well, even if contrary to Tom he acknowledged, craved it even. He did not know love - the most powerful magic of all according to Dumbledore, even, also according to Dumbledore the power that would help Harry defeat the Dark Lord. Of course, the Dursleys were to blame as well, but It had been Dumbledore who had condemned him to grow up with the Dursleys. To what degree was Dumbledore at fault for Tom Riddle's – Voldemort's disregard for love?

"The old argument," Voldemort leered at Dumbledore, "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncement that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

Harry disagreed. He saw prove everywhere, once he had started looking. Love was more likely to create and protect, which to Voldemort held little appeal, Harry thought. It was only natural that Voldemort felt that kind of magic had nothing to offer him, that is, if he even acknowledged the excistence of such magic. Surely, Voldemort was too far gone to change his mind. It would be too risky to appeal to 'The Dark Lord's" most probably non excistent conscience. Harry doubted that the with the prophecy coming into play that even was an option.

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," Dumbledore suggested.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort, "Will you let me return. Will you let me share my knowledge with your students. I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

"And what will become of those whom you command?" Dumbledore gave Voldemort that mildly concerned look, Harry himself had come to know so well, as he had seen it directed at himself so often recently.

It was that look that suggested Dumbledore in his wisdom knew better and felt pity for those who did not agree with him. It was the very same look Harry had seen directed at himself, when he had voiced his opinion that muggles were the equals of wizards but dangerous on their own merits. No, Harry did not agree with Voldemort's world views. He was glad that Dumbledore had not let Voldemort return to Hogwarts. However, he had a very good idea just what must have gone through Voldemort's head at the time.

Dumbledore then insinuated that Voldemort had never actually wished to teach. He was probably right. Being a teacher was only a pretext for returning to the one place Voldemort had considered his true home. Then again, Harry frowned, it seemed very likely that he would hide at least one Horcrux at Hogwarts to anchor a part of himself to his home so to speak, even more so when Voldemort was denied to return there in the flesh.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other," Voldemort said as a parting shot, which sounded almost like a declaration of war. In Harry's opinion it was a rather stupid thing to do, childish even. Why not delay that confrontation, why give Dumbledore a warning? Harry had known that Voldemort held grudges like no other. He had thought the creation of horcruxes had limited Voldemort's ability to feel emotions, but then the man was so prone to temper tantrums. Voldemort was also, yet rarely, feeling happy, in a wild, rapturous way. Maybe the horcruxes had simply stiffled his emotional growth, his maturity?

Harry left the pensieve with Dumbledore. Harry sighed, letting the information sink in.

"Do you have any idea what other objects he could have made into horcruxes?" Harry finally asked, tousling his hair, "So far we know of the diary, the ring, the cup and locket. That leaves three unaccounted for. Going with your theory that he'd collect relics of the founders, that leaves Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, as Slytherin and Hufflepuff are already accounted for," Harry frowned, "What other known objects are there?"

"I could not find any hints, while I was digging in the past, but I came to the same conclusion as you. We are looking for something from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Dumbledore smiled proudly at him, "However, I can assure you that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe in this office." He pointed to Gryffindor's sword which leaned at his desk.

"That still leaves one unaccounted for then," Harry said thoughtfully.

"I think, I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess I have been curious about the behaviour of the snake, Nagini?"

"Is it even possible to make a living being into a horcrux? Snakes can talk, they've got a mind, so they should already have a soul," Harry paused, "But it could explain why I have seen through Nagini's eyes, when Mr Weasley was attacked. I am connected to Voldemort through my scar and if Nagini's a horcrux this connection might extend to her as well. I say, I'd rate Nagini as a definite maybe."

"Well, it's inadvisable to turn something that can think of its own into a horcrux. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one horcrux short of his goal of six, when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you."

"Creating horcruxes is already 'inadvisable' as you've put it," Harry said, "So that would not deter him."

"He seems to have reserved the process of making horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You certainly would have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure he was intending to make his final horcrux with your death."

"I should probably feel special," Harry snorted gloomily. It was so unfair. Why did it have to be him. Why couldn't he be gifted with an ordinary, boring life?

"Sorry, Sir," Harry sighed, "It's just – it's a lot to take in."

After all, for this, at least, Dumbledore could not be blamed, and even if their relationship was likely to get even more strained than it already was, Harry felt he should attempt to remain cordial for as long as possible. Dumbledore would make quite the formidable enemy, which would be more than Harry would like to take on at once.

Voldemort making his last horcrux with Harry's death, the child prophesized to have the power to defeat him. He sure liked his symbolisms. However, it fit. It again showed the childlike attitude Harry had marvelled at ever since he had started his lessons with Dumbledore. While the symbolism surely had no impact on the effectiveness of the horcruxes, Tom Riddle had also recreated himself by splitting, rearranging his soul into horcruxes. So the symbolism behind what obejcts, what hidding places and what deaths had gone into their creation had had an influence on Voldemort's ego and self perception, not on a magical but purely psychological level – as far as Harry could tell.

Now that was a lot to take in, a lot of information to process at once. He would need to write everything down and think it through. Now was not the time to ponder the purposes of his own murder. He would need to confront this alone, come to terms with the emtional part of that topic before he could start to analyse it. For now he would milk the headmaster for as much information as he could. The more he knew, the better he could plan.

"So how does one destroy a horcrux?" Harry fired his next question. After all that was one of the most important questions they had not touched upon as of yet.

"Well, I think we should concern ourselves with finding them, scouting out possible hiding places, before we strategize on how to destroy them."

"Sir," Harry said lowly. His nerves were already stretched thin. He was not up for those evading games Dumbledore liked to play, "With what I know no I could already gather the Horcruxes by myself. Soon our world will be openly at war and we can't make any definite plans for times as insecure as that. Therefore , I think it would be best, if at least the two of us knew all the facts, when it comes to the means to defeat Voldemort."

"Yes, yes, my boy," Dumbledore twinkled tiredly, "You are right, of course. Yet, today it is getting rather late. I suggest, we meet, again next weekend? I have found a possible hiding place for a horcrux an dI feel you have earned the right to accompany on my quest."

"All right," Harry sighed. He would not allow himself to be deterred from information as important as the means to destruct the horcruxes. "However, before we depart on a mission as important as that, you should tell me on how to destroy them! Something could happen to either of us and then ..."

"I have the utmost faith in you, Harry," Dumbledore brushed him off.

"Sir, you must know that I am aware that the hand where you have put on the former ring horcrux looks severely damaged. It therefore has to be really tricky..."

"My boy, let us discuss this further when we meet next time. It is well past curfew. Should I indeed become injured, I ask you to call for Professor Snape. He will know how to treat me."

"Snape?" Harry frowned, "Why do you trust him?"

"That is between Professor Snape and myself, Harry," Dumbledore said his tone reprimanding.

"Right, sorry professor," Harry sighed, "It's just that I don't trust him and I don't feel inclined to entrust him with my life."

"Then you'll have to put your faith in me, my boy," Dumbledore smiled gently at him.

"Right," Harry muttered. That was the heart of the matter. He did not trust Dumbledore, not anymore.

"You've held quite the speech yesterday, my boy," Dumbledore said then, "However, I am concerned that you might not have thought things through. I imagine, you've also heavily relied on the advice of some of your recent associates?"

"In part, however, more in regards to style and gestics than anything else. Every opinion I have voiced I have formed through my own research."

"They have taught you well. You looked quite the upper class Pureblood."

"It was no easy feat to get down the most basic mannerisms of my world that I have been kept so woefully ignorant of for so long," Harry tried to keep that sharp edge out of his voice, but even to his own ears he sounded accusing.

"Then you are aware that you are testing dangerous waters among this crowd." Dumbledore said sternly.

"Indeed," Harry pinched his nose.

"My boy do you think it wise to get that close with young Mr Malfoy?" Dumbledore peered at Harry over his half moon glasses. Finally, Dumbledore had gotten to the point.

"I've got my reasons," Harry said testily. His friends and even class mates he barely knew had pestered him about Draco, ever since he had publicly asked Draco to be his date for the Gathering of Wizarding Importance. And now Dumbledore was butting in as well. There had never been that huge a rift between them as now, and they had never shared a closeness that would have entitled Dumbledore to give his opinion on personal matters without being asked. The man was so infuriating!

"I didn't mean to imply that you haven't," Dumbledore twinkled, "I'm just wondering how he has managed to gain your trust."

"That is between Draco Malfoy and myself," Harry threw Dumbledore's earlier phrase back at him.

As it happens youth can cloud one's judgement," Dumbledore sighed. He seemed to be lost in thoughts, memories? Was that remorse? Guilt?

"As can old age," Harry countered sharply. Dumbledore, that annoying old codger, was attempting to meddle with Harry's life, again. How dare he! The fewer he knew, the less he could meddle, as far as Harry was concerned. And even if, suddenly, he had felt the inexplicable urge to confide in Dumbledore, he would not betray Draco's trust.

Just when Harry had been about to angrily storm out of the office, a thought struck him. Youth can cloud one's judgement – right – the expression on his face, the remorse, had they maybe touched a little too closely towards the dark spots in Albus Dumbledore's past? Harry settled back into his chair and folded his hands.

"But it seems you are speaking out of personal experience?" Harry left the sentence hanging, an effective interrogation technique he had picked up from Blaise.

"I do, my boy, I do," Dumbledore said gravely, "I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

"Then tell me," Harry said, schooling his features into those of a compassionate listener. While he might be able to learn from Dumbledore's mistakes, the knowledge would also give him an insight into what made the man tick. So far the man was a complete mystery to him.


	37. Chapter 37

**I've finally got the next chapter ready. Real life got in the way of writing. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the edited chapters soon as well. However, I'm not sure when the next new chapter will be up, as I'm going on holiday soon next Sunday**.

**Thanks for reviewing, even though I've been quite disappointed that so few of you did.**

**Chapter 37**

It was Sunday morning in the early afternoon. A large group had assembled in the Room of Requirement for Harry's new defence club, which was now organized under the tutoring system. The former DA members were almost all present, except for Cho, Marrietta, Colin and Ron. Daphne, Blaise and Draco had shown up as well and surprisingly almost all first years – even from Slytherin.

"Hi everyone," Harry smiled slightly flustered by the sheer numbers that had shown up, "Quite honestly I didn't expect that many of you to come. Don't get me wrong – I'm glad you came!" he hastily added, "but I think we'll need to organize our study sessions a little differently."

Harry looked around the Room that had taken on the size of the Great Hall.

"I have noticed that a lot of you are first years. Most of you wont have mastered your wand work enough to do any serious duelling. That doesn't mean that you can't train yourselves in defense. It only means you should probably try a different approach."

Harry surveyed Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Daphne and Blaise critically. Hermione had become rather good at dodging, but then she was good at everything she really set her mind on. Ginny was fierce, but not overly impressive. She probably really was more offensive than defensive in nature. Daphne was still very fragile and lacked stamina. Now Neville and Blaise had both improved drastically and the result was impressive. Both of them were Purebloods and while Blaise as a Slytherin represented the more snobbish side of wizarding society, Neville was well known for his clumsiness.

"Neville," Harry said after a moment of thought, "Are you up for a short demonstration?"

"Sure," Neville walked forward and drew his wand.

"Begin," Harry said and Neville silently shot spell after spell in quick succession at Harry, who appeared to be no more than an indistinctive blur of astonishing flexebility. However, Neville was fast as well. His wand seemed to emmit a single beam of differently couloured light, as his spell casting was so fast - only directed by thought - that the human eye could no longer distinguish between spells.

Therefore it took only five minutes until Harry was hit by a powerfull cheering charm.

"Infinite Incantatem," Harry cancelled the cheering charm and without pausing he attacked, "Ridiculous, Expelliarmus, Confundo, Stupefy, Tarantula, Expelliarmus ... " and on and on it went. They where both completely silent, deeply concentrated. Harry's silent casting no longer consisted of thought out pronounciations but rather intentions.

Neville's movements were blurred as well and for Neville's broader form to avoid the barrage of spells was even more impressive than for Harry's wiry frame. Sometimes Neville seemed to float in the air or to even be at more than one place at once.

Finally, Harry hit him with a confundus.

"Well, I think that should be enough for a demonstration." Harry said.

"Dodging is an invalueable skill, which is severely underestimated by most," Harry continued, "Had we been attempting to shield against those spells, it would not leave us any room to counter attack. Also it would quickly tire us magically. Dodging is physically draining but with practise your body will built up stamina."

"That was amazing," Draco came up to him, a gleam in his eyes.

"Thanks," Harry grinned and turned to his audience once more,"We have only started this kind of training a month ago, in earnest," Harry said, "It's hard but definitely worth it. I suggest you try it out now. So get into pairs and take turns to shoot _Ridiculous_ at each other as fast as you can, don't hold anything back. Once you are hit you switch."

"I'll need to take a look around," Harry said and clapped Draco on the shoulder. Draco nodded and turned to search for a duelling partner.

Harry and those who had been training dodging with him, were making their rounds, assisting the duelling pairs.

Harry curiously stopped in front of a cluster of first years.

The tiny Gryffindor muggleborn was evading spells with an amazing speed for a beginner. Obviously, her size was helpful as well, but Harry very strongly felt that she had not yet reached her limit. Her year mate simply could not accelerate her spell casting.

"Very good," Harry clapped, "May I step in?"

"Sure," the other first year stepped out of the circle. Harry noticed that she wore a Slytherin tie. Not long ago it would have appeared unthinkable that a Gryffindor and a Syltherin voluntarily paired up, but that group of first years stood together rather comfortably.

"Would you like to cast first?" Harry asked kindly, "Catch your breath a little?"

"I wouldn't ever catch you," she blushed, "I can't even cast silently."

"Oh of course," Harry slapped his forehead, "Then are you ready?"

The small girl nodded shyly.

And Harry begann casting, not as fast as he could but over the last month his spell casting had become much faster than average. So he was still very much impressed by her skill. It seemed almost as if she had undergone a similar training to them.

"That was very impressive!" Harry said sincerely, "Have you done something like that before?"

"N-noo," the small girl looked at the floor.

"How come you're so good at it?" the Slytherin she had paired up with piped up. Surely, the Slytherins in his year had not been that cute as first years?

"I don't know," she said, her lips tightly pressed together. However, her eyes told something different. Harry's mind almost shied away from the possebility that she had learnt the same way he had, by avoiding punches and kicks, at school or from relatives, but it fit. She was so shy, like a scared little bird. Dodging came naturally to her, instinctively. Harry felt his heart go out to her.

"I think, I've found part of the solution for our large numbers," he said, "What's your name by the way?"

"Sandra Higgings," she said.

"You would do me a huge favour by supervising your fellow first years' dodging excersises from now on."

"Mmee?" Sandra looked startled, frightened and also proud. Harry moved his hand to pat her on the shoulder when he saw her twitching and moving out of the way. Harry decided to talk to her alone.

"Could you stay after this lesson, so we can discuss this further?" he asked.

"Sure," Sandra blushed, looking quite like a deer caught in the headlight.

"See you later then," Harry said and moved to the next duelling pair – Ernie McMillan and Susan Bones.

Ernie was as usual very stiff. Surely he could cast his spells faster? He seemed to deliberately pause to let Susan catch her breath. It gave her time to think about her next move.

"Don't hold back," Harry said, "This is about improving reflexes."

"It's just not chivalrous," Ernie said stiffly.

"You're only casting _Ridiculous,_" Harry argued, "Allow me to step in?"

Ernie's mouth was set into a grim line as he changed places with Harry. Ever since Ernie had voiced his interest in dating Harry, after Harry had asked out Draco, things were awkward between them.

"Ready?" Harry looked at Susan who nodded.

Harry slowly accelerated his spell casting to ease her into the right frame of mind. Like most Purebloods Susan clearly was not used to any physical activity. She was panting rather heavily. Also she was of a slightly heavier built with very pronounced femine curves. However, she was slowly adapting and moving faster. She really was no worse than Hermione had been when they had started their training. When he had finally hit her with a curse, Harry stepped out of the circle.

"Your turn," Harry nodded at Ernie.

Susan was red faced and breathless and yet her eyes were sparkling playfully. She began casting spells at Ernie who stiffly and sourly jumped left and right. He was putting too much thought into it, far too concerned about dignity and it was slowing him down.

Harry watched Luna and Dennis Creevey. They were both doing pretty well. Dennis was naturally quirly and also small. Fast movement came naturally to him and as a muggleborn.... While Luna was usually dreamy and not one for hectic movement, she was very accepting of new ideas and Harry new she had been bullied at Hogwarts.

Harry moved on and watched Draco and Terry Boot. Terry was no more fond of physical activity than the average Pureblood it seemed and Draco had quickly gotten the hang of Harry's method of speed casting. Soon Terry was hit and giggling rather uncontrollably. Draco smirked.

Then Terry took his turn at casting. His casting was fast as well, which Harry had expected. He was after all a studious Ravenclaw and had been top of the year after Hermione and Draco.

Harry gaped – Who would have thought Draco, of all people could be so good at this?! Admittedly, he was breathing hard and he certainly was not exactly athletic but he moved swiftly, instinctively and without hesitating. He was fast as well, very fast for his first try. Then he was hit. Harry clapped but then rushed to Draco's side when he saw him staggering.

"What's up? Are you alright?" Harry asked, grapsing his bony shoulders to steady him.

"Just a little dizzy," Draco said weakly.

Harry looked at him. The last months with all that worrying had put a strain on Draco. He was jumpy and jittery and did not eat properly. He would need to talk to Draco. He had to take better care of himself.

"You were very good at that," Harry said.

"Thanks," Draco said stiffly, obviously uncomfortable.

Harry mused that last year Draco proabably would not have been able to dodge so well. Physical training was only one half of what made a skilled dodger, one also needed the right frame of mind. Being jumpy was just that. The natural abiltiy to dodge was truly not something associated with a carefree life.

"Okay, everyone," Harry called, "Now that you're all properly warmed up, we'll move on to spell casting. First years will concentrate on the disarming spell today. Should you feel ready to move one you can also try out the stunning hex. Same goes for second years."

There were disgruntled mumurs from a couple of second years. They did not like being basically put in one group with the first years.

"Last your with Umbridge as your defence teacher, you've never had any practical training in defense. In fact, when we started our defense club last year all of us started with those spells as well. They are very useful spells that should be mastered properly. They could save your lives. You will want to work an your aim as well."

"I would suggest that all of us start up with those spells as well. When we feel sure to have mastered that spell we can move on to other things. In a group as large as this it is more practical to split into smaller groups anyway."

"Good idea," Harry grinned at her, "So let's see what you've got. Get into pairs."

It turned out that their short dodging exercise had already largely improved everyone's aim. Some first and second years were still struggling to get the pronounciation right, which was to be expected.

Everyone else soon moved on to pratice spells they had not properly mastered yet and paired up accordingly.

Two hours later Harry called the lesson to a halt.

"Well, I think that's enough for today. We'll need to freshen up before dinner."

"I'd like to remind you that tomorrow after dinner I'm giving a lesson on healing for anyone who's interested. We'll meet in the new common room after breaktfast," Daphne said.

The students trickled slowly out, chatting excitedly, some of them clapping Harry on the back on their way out.

"So you wanted to talk to me?" Sandra asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "Your dodging was really admirable."

Sandra smiled uncomfortably.

"You know know, I've learnt out of neccessity - avoiding being hit by my cousin and his goons. I wouldn't have stood a chance fighting even only him."

"Oh," Sandra blinked, "I've been often bullied by class mates at primary school, being so small and – strange."

"Thought so," Harry smiled sadly at her, "You know you can talk to me, if you want to," he offered.

"Thanks," she smiled and skipped out of the room.

"Good lesson," Draco said, waiting at the door, "I've got the password for the prefects bathroom."

"Sounds good," Harry smirked. This whole dating thing definitely had its perks. Between him and Draco nothing had really changed so far, since they had started officially dating. However, they no longer had to dance around incitiating anything intimate.


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon. I'm already looking forward to that chapter.**

**Chapter 38**

_Snape has always been quite ambigious, _Remus' letter read. _To your father and Sirius he has always been evil impersonated, which is the imageDumbledore expects us to play up, for Snape's sake. However, I think you have the right to know the truth, even though it might not make a difference in the long run. I have told you, I am siding with you, not with Dumbledore._

_What you have been unaware of so far is that he was a childhood friend of your mother. She has always defended him – the main cause for her ongoing arguments with your father. Their friendship ended rather abruptly in their fifth year at Hogwarts though. I am not privy to what exactly happened; your mother only said it was unforgivable. He had started hanging out with the more shady members of Slytherin house even before that (Avery, McNair, Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy). _

_He had always been quite the loner before, which was why he mainly had to face Sirius and James alone. The only one he kept rather close to was Sirius' brother, Regulus. While Sirius disliked his brother rather fiercely, he really was not that bad – rather stuck up, but he, as well, mostly kept to himself and out of conflicts. _

_Hope to hear from you soon._

_Yours_

_Remus_

_Laura has started working as an assistant for the Weasley twins. Seems they are getting along very well._

Harry stared at the letter. His mother! His mother had been friends with the greasy g – with Snape. And Harry had never known. How could his mother have been friends with Snape? But then Harry knew next to nothing about his mother. He had seen a photo, knew she had been head girl, had according to Slughorn been good at potions, he'd heard she'd been good at charms as well, but he knew next to nothing of her character, her likes, dislikes, her friends. All this time there had been a childhood friend of her close by and he had never known. Snape had gone out of his way to make him miserable.

Harry felt determined more than ever to talk to him. What had Snape done that had irrevocably destroyed their friendship? How had Snape ended up a Death Eater – a spy? Dumbledore had refused to say and had puposefully hidden Snape's former friendship to his mother. Maybe there was a connection? With Dumbledore the answers usually lay in what he kept secret, rather than in what information he disclosed.

He definitely needed to talk to Snape but that would prove to be difficult – they had never held a civil conversation. He could not simply knock on Snape's office door and ask about his loyalty and reasoning. They could not speak openly – could not trust each other. Nevermind Snape's loyalty they would both take great risks, likely more risks than either of them would be willing to take.

Draco was bound to know something about Snape. He'd love to talk this over with him. However, could he risk uncovering a potientiel spy to Draco? Spying was a dangerous business and while Harry severely disliked Snape, he would not risk the man's life by letting Draco in on his doubts. He liked Draco, trusted him even, but Draco seemed convinced that Snape was a loyal Death Eater. Maybe he should use his friends as a sounding board? Their loyalty had far less potiential to become conflicted at some point. However, the more people knew, the more Snape would be at risk. No, this was something Harry had to work out alone.

Maybe Snape was loyal only to Snape. That would not be the worst case scenario, might give more solid ground for a working relationship between him and Snape than if the man's loyalty belonged to either Voldemort or Dumbledore. It certainly would make both their lives easier, if they could come to some kind of understanding.

Snape had saved his life numerous times, but that had been before Voldemort's return – a means to curry favor with Dumbledore or something else? Just how close friends had Snape and his mother been at one time?

Maybe Snape was really loyal to Dumbledore but Harry doubted he appreciated Dumbledore's manipulations. Whatever else Snape might or might not be, he was intelligent and must have caught on how much Dumbledore manipulated those around him. Surely, that was a trait a Slytherin admired but not when subjected to said manipulations himself.

Harry was convinced that when it came down to it Snape was only loyal to Snape. There had to be some common ground to both their goals, some starting point from where there could form at least a partial alliance.

Once again Harry was absentminded in class that day, as he mulled everything over, even though he did take notes dilligently.

Then after dinner Daphne Greengrass finally held her introductional tutoring lesson on healing. Rows of chairs had been lined up in the new common room. Harry eagerly pulled Draco to the front row where he was joined by Hermione, Blaise and Ginny. He grinned at Daphne who waited at the front for the students to arrive.

"Welcome to the introductory tutoring lesson in healing." Daphne finally said, when the last students had trickled in. Her voice sounded a little faint and Harry guessed that those in the last row might have trouble to hear her.

"For those of you, who don't know me, yet, my name is Daphne Greengrass," she curtsied lightly and continued in a stronger voice, "Healing has always been a private passion of mine and I've invested a lot of time into private study on that subject. In this course I will provide you with basic knowledge on how to effectively heal yourselves and others, when no healer is available. You will learn to counter bruising, stop bleeding, mend bones and postphone concussions.

"Why postphone – why not heal them?" someone asked.

"A concussion has to run its course," Daphne answered confidently, "Aided with potions and bed rest it will be faster, but the patient also has to be immobilised. We can obviously go over useful potions as well, but hardly anyone carries potions with them all the time."

Harry frowned. It would be a good idea to constantly have basic healing potions on hand. He would discuss this with Daphne after the lesson.

"We will start with the charm to stop bleeding. However before you use that charm you will have to clean the wound or you might drive dirt into the blood stream."

Her wand moved in an upward spiral,

"Emundo" she intoned clearly.

Then she went through the incantation step by step.

"Keep your mind firmly set on what you intent to do. You want to heal – meaning you only want to clean the wound. Don't let yourselves get carried away by the gruesomeness of the wound or you might vanish too much." She paused to let that idea sink in, "You only guide the patient's body through the healing process, which aided by your focused magic will ease the way. The patient's body is usually quite capable of doing the rest."

"The upward spiral wand movement directs the direction of the foreign particles. Any questions?"

It seemed that for the moment everyone had at least a vague idea on what to do and no questions came forward.

"Fine," Daphne smiled kindly but her eyes were glowing delightedly. She truly was in her element when it came to healing, "I have brought a puppet for each of you. They are what healer apprentices practice their spells on. They are charmed to glow white whenever your spell has been successful." she held up a small stone figurine, "I've got the master puppet, meaning that any spell I'll feed it, will be added to your puppet as well."

Suddenly everyone came to the front at once to pick up their puppet and slight chaos ensued. Everyone was eager to select a puppet. Finally, Daphne had enough. She raised her wand which suddenly emitted a loud bang.

"Please, take a puppet and get back to your seats. They are all exactly identical, seeing as everyone of them is a duplicate of the master puppet."

Then when everyone had settled down again, Daphne guided them step by step through the spell casting again.

Harry frowned at his puppet. It was difficult to keep in mind that he wanted to heal, when his patient was a small stone figurine, but then it would probably be even more difficult to focus with a patient of flesh and blood that had a nasty flesh wound.

"It might help to name your puppet," Daphne said, as she watched over everyone's spell casting from the front.

After that suggestion the first hurdle was taken. Harry secretly and silently named his puppet Adrianna after his mother's probable squib ancestor.

Then Harry cast the spell for the first time, intently focused on cleaning the gashing flash wound he imagined poor Adrianna to have on her right leg. He was so intently focused on his intention and the wand movement that he forgot to say the spell out loud.

Next to him Draco quirked an eyebrow, "Seriously, voiceless casting on the first try,Harry?"

"I did?" Harry blinked, "I simply forgot," he admitted and Draco shook his head.

"So guide me through it?" he implored.

"Uh, okay," Harry frowned, "Does your puppet have a name?"

"Yes," Draco smirked but did not elaborate.

"Where is it hurt?" Harry inquired further.

"Don't know," Draco shrugged, "It's a stone puppet."

"No, it's not. He or she's a living and breathing human being, who's hurt." Harry said.

"Right," Draco stared dubiously at Harry, then he sighed and stared pensively at the puppet. Finally he moved his wand.

"Emundo," he intoned clearly and the puppet glowed white.

"You've got it," Harry grinned.

"You can take those puppets with you and practice this spell on your own. Now we move on towards the simple blood stilling charm. Again, focus on what you intent to do. You want the flesh and skin to regrow as it should. Let the magic flow, let the body do its work. Don't be too forceful." Daphne directed.

"Evalesco," she said, while making a sideways circle in front of the puppet which ended in pointing the wand at the puppet.

The puppet glowed white and everyone turned to their own puppet to try the spell.

"With healing spells the mistake most commonly made is that people put too much force into them and thus contradicting the patient's own healing abilities. The consequences can be very dreadful," Daphne said.

Daphne effectively guided them through the stitching course next and then she handed out a paper with the instructions for every spell she had taught that day. Everyone clapped enthusiastically.

"The next lesson will be next week at the same time," Daphne said over the noise, "Those of you who have still trouble mastering any of those spells by that time, may come an hour early, so we can go over them again in a smaller group."

"That was an inspiring lesson," Harry said truly delighted.

"Why aren't our regular lessons more like the tutoring lessons we've had so far," Ginny wondered aloud, "I feel, I've learnt so much more – more useful thinks anyway - than in usual lessons,"

"It's probably because usually there is much more theory involved," Draco suggested, "Tutoring lessons concentrate much more on the practical application. Our Hogwarts curriculum is supposed to prepare us for the study of more complex fields of magic. Besides, the younger years will probably need much more practise and guidance till they master those spells."

"Maybe, but younger children usually have a more vivid imagination," Harry said, "With those spells it will help immensly.

"Anyway, lets move to the Room of Requirement for training," Neville suggested.

"Will you join us?" Harry looked at Draco, who gave a curt not and fell into step besides Harry.

They went through their training routine for an hour and left feeling absolutely drained. Draco's gaunt face had a rosy tint to it and appeared less stressed out than usual these days. Then they had to hurry to arrive in their common rooms before curfew.

Harry tiredly sank into bed and again thought about his day. Training had felt wonderful. Healing lessons were promissing. At the rate they were going through spells and actually mastering them, there was an actual chance he might get the hang of basic healing before the war started in earnest and all hell broke lose.

Becoming a proficient healer took years, but magical first aid could save his life and that of so many others. Sadly enough those spells would prove very useful, very quickly. Just why didn't the ministry offer courses on magical first aid? It would be so much more effective than useless articles on self defense in the Daily Prophet.

Then Harry's mind drifted to that morning and Remus letter – Snape. Snape had been his mother's childhood friend. He had to talk to him. If only he knew how. He could not simply ask him about his loyalties and then it was obvious that Snape could not answer him honestly. The whole conversation was doomed to fail before it really started.

It did not help to lose sleep over that. Harry sighed and immersed himself into the sensation of flying on a broom. He felt light, having left his worries behind.

The next day after dinner Harry decisively knocked on Snape's door. Snape opened the door and sneered at the seemingly empty space. However, he silently stepped aside to let Harry pass through, before he closed the door, again.

"Potter," Snape sneered.

"Professor," Harry acknowledged after he had thrown off his invisibility cloak.

"What gives me the dubious honor of your presence?" Snape sneered.

Harry had to purposefully refrain from pulling his hair. He had thought everything over again and again but now in front of Snape, he was lost for words.

"I've found out you've been friends with my mother," Harry finally said and watched Snape's face carefully.

His eyes widened slightly, hardly noticable had Harry not looked so closely for any sign that he was onto something, before they narrowed narrowed into tiny slits.

"And where pray tell did you come up with that idea?" Snape sneered.

"That's besides the point," Harry said defiantly. There really was no reason to get Remus in trouble and he did not want to give away that Remus had chosen him over Dumbledore, not yet anyway.

"What do you perceive to be the point of this conversation?" Snape asked silkily.

"Is it true?" Harry asked bluntly.

"I would hardly think your mother would have called me a friend," Snape stared down at him.

"No, not anymore. You've had some kind of argument, while still at school and never made up," Harry said.

"You're well informed," Snape stated, "How is that of any significance though?"

"I had hoped you could tell me something about her," Harry said wistfully.

"Like what?" Snape sneered loathingly.

"Just random things to remember her by. No one's ever told me about my mother. The only memory I've got of her is her death." Harry said.

"What in my attitude has ever given you the idea you could invite yourself over for a round of story telling?"

"Nothing at all, Sir," Harry said, "However, while poking around, I found out that my mother's friendship with you has been purposefully hidden from me."

"Get out," Snape whispered lowly, threateningly.

"I owe you an appology. Looking into your pensieve was wrong. However, I assure you, I derived no pleasure from what I saw. In fact, I've been thoroughly ashamed of my father's behaviour and it shattered the illusion of everything I thought I knew about him, which admittedly wasn't all that much," Harry said sincerely.

Snape nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. Forgiveness did not come easily to Snape, but at least he was hearing him out. Harry repressed the urge to card his fingers through his hair.

"Things are going to get rough soon. I think, it is time we came to some kind of understanding," Harry said, determined to at least appear calm and collected.

Snape fixed his gaze expressionlessly at Harry. Harry recognized the silence as the same interrogation method Blaise employed frequnently. Most people avoided silence and felt prompted to fill it with very telling babble and thus giving away more information than they should. Harry took a deep breath instead.

"Dangerous times are ahead – for both of us," Harry began, "I think, we need to come to some kind of understanding on where we stand with each other. I can't be sure of your loyalties. I used to believe you were a loyal Death Eater, while Dumbledore insists you are loyal to him. I have tentatively come to the conclusion that you are neither."

"Foolish Gryffindor," Snape sneered, "Always jumping right in. No subtlety whatsoever."

"I've been attempting to come up with a more indirect approach, but nothing came to mind. While I recognize the value of subtlety, in this case it would only cause even more confusion. So I'll stick to Gryffindor bluntness," Harry admitted.

"Indeed," Snape looked disdainfully down his nose at him, "Lets see then how you muddle through this. Have a seat." He gestured to the plain looking chair in front of his desk

When they were both seated, Snape remained silent, piecring Harry with his mocking gaze, while Harry took care to avoid looking into his eyes.

"You wanted the opportunity to talk," Snape said after a couple of uncomfortable minutes, which was nothing but a statement of facts and did not give Harry any lead on where to start.

"The mask you show to the public is vicious enough for a Death Eater, but then were you really a loyal Death Eater you'd take care to appear more amicable. And while Dumbledore has his blind spots, I think, his certainty that your loyalty is not with the Dark Lord, is based on something he knows rather than believes. I think, he's got something on you.

"So what gives you the idea, I'm not loyal to Dumbledore?" Snape sneered, of course. "You don't like to be manipulated, for one," Harry said, "That is not to say that you actively work against him, but rather you work for him where it fits your purposes, whatever they may be."

"So you have finally caught on to those manipulations," Snape sneered.

"Better late than never," Harry said with a sneer of his own, "I think, he's holding something over your head. He won't tell me what, but I think it's got something to do with my mother."

"Not everything in this world revolves around you Potter," Snape snarled.

"Your past friendship should have been an insignificant detail. However, the effort taken into covering it up, makes it stand out," Harry said.

Snape inclined his head but said nothing then finally he said.

"Your mother was an amazing person and the best friend anyone could wish for. She was my friend and I messed it up irrepairably. It's as simple as that."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Harry whispered.

"Don't you dare say sorry," Snape snapped, "Not for that."

"Yes Sir," Harry said cautiously, feeling it was not quite as simple as that.

"You've got her eyes," Snape said.

"I know," Harry whispered.

"Initially, my loyalty lies with Lily's son, make no mistake it's nothing personal," Snape snapped.

"Of course not, Sir," Harry said quite overwhelmed. He had not been prepared for anything remorely like that, when he had sought out Snape at his office.

"You feel guilty for her death," Harry realized.

"Yes," Snape sneered, "I've been still a Death Eater at the time."

"He gave her the choice to step aside, let him kill me. He offered to spare her life," Harry looked at him in amazement, "It has been because of you. Voldemort had no reason to spare the life of a muggleborn."

"Yes," Snape did not look up, "But she died anyway."

"But at least it made her death worth something. She choose to die for me. Otherwise, she would have died anyway. Her choice ended the war."

"The Lily I knew would have always died for her loved ones. It's who she was," Snape stated sadly.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely, "for talking to me."

"Nothing can change between us, Mr Potter," Snape said sharply, "I hope you realize that. It's too risky.

"Of course, Sir" Harry inclined his head.

"You are right to be suspicious of the headmaster, Mr Potter," Snape took a deep breath, "You might also take a closer look at that scar of yours and ponder a little more about the sinificance of certain objects."

"Sir," Harry gazed questioningly at him.

"I've sworn not to tell you," Snape said, "You'll have to figure that out yourself."

"Thank you, Sir" Harry said sincerely.

He could not allow himself to trust Snape, not really, he knew that, because whether or not he truly intented to protect the son of his former friend, he was also a spy and it was only reasonable to assume that Snape would value his own life more than that of 'Lily's son'.Also Harry had a hard time coming to terms with what he had learnt. He had spent too much time despising the man for things to suddenly change.


	39. Chapter 39

**Hi everyone. Thanks for reviewing. **

**I agree that the wizarding community as I have described it would only accept marriages that could produce offspring. They are not an open minded or tolerant lot, but magic enables same sex couples to have children of their own. In this story I will not go into it any further though.  
**

**As for Harry becoming more and more like Dumbledore – Harry is becoming more Slytherin. Everyone taking on a role in politics has to stand for something and be convinced that he is right or take on the most popular opinion to gain power but then he would be a puppet and not really achieve anything, either. **

**Harry does not think he knows all the answers. He makes suggestions and tries to package them nicely. It is my firm and probably rather cynical belief that to achieve anything in politics one has to make use of some very underhanded ways. He does not have a problem with people disagreeing. He is open for discussion, might change his opinion, but he does not want to fight a war over how their society should be run. Therefore, he wants to invite public discussion.**

**It has not nessecarily been my intent to make Harry a nice guy, but a 16 year old who given his background and current situation has to take on the world and succeed. **

**Also do not forget that Harry and Tom Riddle have got far more in common than a horcrux. I always thought the concept of ying and yang fits those two rather nicely. **

**Now I don't want to tell you too much, which is why I'll stop now. I know this chapter is short.****The next one is almost ready though. **

Chapter 39

Waking up the next day, Harry pondered, again what he had learnt the night before. Doubts were creeping in. Snape had claimed loyalty, to him, Harry, because Harry was his mother's son. Looking at it from a little more distance, the reasoning looked feeble. There had to be more to it.

Snape had said nothing would change between them. Harry realized he was glad that some things remained the same. So many things were changing these days. It was comforting to have a constant in life, even if it was a negaitive emotion such as loathing.

Harry rolled out of bed and then strolled into the Great Hall half an hour later. As usual the Great Hall was abuzz with excited chatter wafting through the hall. Harry nodded at Draco, Daphne and Blaise at the Slytherin table as he headed towards his own house table, nodded towards Luna and Terry at the Ravenclaw table and Susan and Hannah at Huffelpuff's. He had defnitely broadened his circle of friends, Harry thought as he settled into his seat next to Neville and across from Hermione, while Ginny sat a little further down the table with a couple of classmates.

"Morning Hermione, Neville," Harry greeted.

"Morning Harry," his two friends chorussed back and Hermione added, "It's really a pity those tutoring lessons had been restricted to Ravenclaw so far, don't you think? I mean, I went over everything we've learnt so far. It's incredible. Just think what we could have learnt by now, had we only started earlier..."

Harry completely missed the point of her ramblings, as at that moment the owls were swooping in and then gasps could be heard throughout the Great Hall. A quick glance showed that those gasping were gazing at the front page of _The Daily Prophet. _

"Harry," Neville said in a tone of voice Harry could not quite describe. "Have at look at the front page. Mass breakout from Azkaban - again." He pushed the paper towards Harry so both of them could read at the same time.

"Voldemort has broken out those caught at the ministry," Harry observed, as he stared at the pictures of Walden McNair, Dolohov, and Lucius Malfoy.

"We're fucked," Harry groaned, "What sense does it make to arrest them, if they are broken out shortly after."

"Language, Harry," Hermione adomished, "And what else should they do but arrest them!"

"They could try for some better security, for a start," Harry suggested heatedly, once again staring at the article.

**Mass break out from Azkaban**

Harry shivered. Open war was coming closer. He did not feel even remotely ready for that.

Walden Mc Nair was little more than a sadistic brute. Lucius Malfoy, however, was one of the key figures in the upcoming war. He was cunning and a dangerous opponent.

Draco's father had returned to Voldemort. Harry's eyes swept towards the Slytherin table. Draco had paled, his lips were pressed into a thin line. Did he fear he would meet his father in battle? Was he afraid his father would be tortured for his wife's disappearance and Draco's defection? Would he attempt to get in contact with his father? Draco did not meet Harry's eyes.

Harry did not know how to act around him anymore, either. They had gotten along so well in the past few weeks. Never once had he forgotten just who his family was. Now though everything seemed to be falling apart. It was obvious that they could not continue as they had.

Trust had suddenly become an issue. And yet Harry felt with Draco, wanted to tell him everything would be alright and yet, he felt too much fear and furstration, was far too furious at Lucius Malfoy to show any true compassion.

He'd have to clear his head, think this over. Then they'd talk.

The next couple of days Draco avoided Harry, slipping into classes with the teacher at the beginning of each lesson and rushing out at the end of lessons.

For the first couple of days Harry was almost glad that he did not have to talk to him, while he was still so unsure on how to handle the whole mess. Nevertheless, every time he saw Draco avoid his gaze, he felt a sharp twinge in his stomach.

Yet, Harry still had no more clue on how to handle the situation five days after the breakout, than when he had first seen the picture of Lucius Malfoy the morning after the breakout.

While it probably was not the isssue he should be fretting over most, he kept on agonizing about the future of what ever he and Draco had had. For all intents and purposes it looked like they were over. Draco was avoiding him.

His friends were eyeing Harry wearily and were obviously at a loss at what to say on that matter. So they all skidded around that topic rather awkwardly.

Finally, Harry could not stand it any longer and asked Blaise, who as a member of Slytherin house and also as a in general quitely observing person was bound to have seen more of Draco these last couple of days.

"Malfoy?" Blaise frowned thoughtfully, "He's hardly speaking to anyone these days, always sitting moodily in a corner and staring into space. He does not look healthy, not that it's surprising given the circumstances."

"No, I guess not," Harry sighed.

"I don't know what had been going on between the two of you, but I think you should talk to him," Blaise said delicately, "Pardon my forwardness. It's really none of my business."

"I asked, didn't I;" Harry smiled thinly, "I guess, you're right. I just don't don't know what to say."

"He's really in a hard place right now though," Blaise commented, "He doesn't even have a place to stay, any longer. And Malfoy has always placed so much importance on family."

"I know," Harry sighed.

"I could offer him a place to stay, in fact, I already did, but now with his father..." Harry said.

"He can't join his father now he's so very publicly declared his alliance to you," Blaise pointed out.

Harry was at a loss at what to say. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, running in circles. He'd gone over this from all angles he could possibly think of again and again. It was no use. He decided to change the subject. He was really not close enough to Blaise for an in depth conversation about something so close to his heart and felt rather uncomfortable.

"So speaking about this summer? Will you be needing a safe place?" Harry looked at Blaise, "I've finally got everything figured out."

"Then I would like to take you up on your offer," Blaise said.

"Will your mother be needing a place to stay, as well?" Harry asked, "You're welcome to bring her along, of course."

"No, just me," Blaise said curtly.

"There's enough space..." Harry started.

"My mother can take care of herself." Blaise interrupted him.

"But..." Harry was bewildered.

"The Dark Lord would not go through the hassle of attacking my mother, anyway. She's no threat to him and has nothing of interest to offer him," Blaise sighed.

"If you're sure..."

"She would not agree to go into hiding, anyway."

"Oh," Harry said, still not understanding.

"Potter," Blaise said with a pinched look, "My mother is addicted to the dark arts, too deep in to get out. Mind you, she's no use to the Dark Lord – he would not be interested in her field of expertise."

After hearing that his mother was a dark witch, he had first thought that she had ties to Voldemort, but he had realized that there was more evil than Voldemort. Dark did not equal Death Eater.

"What is her field of expertise?" Harry asked then.

"Take a guess," Blaise snapped.

"Oh," Harry stared wide eyed at him.

It really was obvious. He had known there was something of with that women when he had met her at the Yule dance. The suffocating stickiness that clung to her in an oddly enticing manner that had caused the hairs on his neck to raise, had given him the vague impression of danger, even though he could not have explained what he meant by that.

"Exactly! Beauty – It's unlikely the Dark Lord would want to start up a beauty farm," Blaise smiled bitterly.

"It's the only thing she cares about and it's slowly killing her. By now there's hardly anything left of her anyway, nothing but a beautiful empty shell. She will neither move a finger for, nor against him, as long as he does not threaten her, in which case she'd be able to cause enough damage before going down for the Dark Lord to leave her alone."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"I have known for some time that I will be on my own," Blaise said.

After that they had rather abruptly parted ways to flee the tension involuntarily revealing strands of conversation had left behind.

Harry continued to watch Draco with ever increasing worry from afar, while he attended classes and tutoring lessons. However, dread had seeped into every limb of his body and was weighing him down, the unresolved issue with Draco always nagging at the edge of his mind. He did not seem to find the energy to keep up with his classes, homework and tutoring lessons. He felt miserable and looking at Mafoy's overly thin form made him even more miserable. Yet, he did not know what to do, how to fix this. Could this even be fixed somehow?


	40. Chapter 40

**Hi everyone! Thanks for reviewing, even though I'm a little sad that so few of you do. I've never found out whether it means, the chapter was less popular, or a mere coincidence.  
**

**The story is definetely taking a more sinister turn from now on.**

**This Harry is no hero, but a survivor. Then again, I don't believe any so called hero is as glorious as they are made out to be. Stories and also history usually simply gloss over how they got sick, had nervous breakdowns, did things they would be ashamed of under normal circumstances etc. Survivors often simply can't afford to be selfless and nice. It's a frame of mind nessecary to survive, not just an analytical decision in a given situation.**

**This Harry is human, an angsty teen, who has to take on the world and will not only survive, but also change his world.**

**Harry might not be better than Dumbledore, but then Harry does not claim to be some kind of saint.**

* * *

**Chapter 40**

Harry continued to observe Draco from afar. What he saw worried him. Draco looked seriously ill. His mask had gained some rather obvious, permanent cracks from the pressure he had been constantly under since the beginning of the school year. It seemed the situation with his father's breakout from Azkaban had been the final stray.

Draco was easily startled by the tiniest noise or sudden movement, even though he probably fought hard to keep his twitching under control. At the Great Hall Harry felt his eyes stray to the Slytherin table more often than he would have liked, the fear Draco might be keeling over the next instant always nagging at him.

Yet, Harry was at a loss at what to do. No easy solution to somehow fix this came to mind. Involuntarily, Harry had had never ending repetious inner monologues about the whole mess, attempting to consider it from all possible angles.

Nevermind, how he looked at it, it always concluded in three things: Harry could not trust Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was Draco's father. Harry worried about Draco. Harry could not trust Lucius Malfoy....

He had attempted all week to take his mind off things, throwing himself into school work and tutoring lessons. He felt, he would break under the strain his added self assigned work load had put on him. And yet, it did not do him any good.

He could not keep his mind off Draco, what Draco was going through, what Draco might or might not be thinking, while he stared moodily into space, while pretending even to himself that he was getting some kind of studying done.

When Harry's observations brought to light that even Draco's eating habits were off, Harry concluded he had been stalling long enough. It had been a long time since Harry had seen Draco eat with anything resembling appetite, but then he had still eaten bits of everything. Now though Draco had gotten into the habit of only eating mushy and liquid things, a spoonful of ice cream, some soup, mashed potatos, a spoonful of gravy. He seemed to have difficulties swallowing.

Enough was enough. With the rate he was going Draco would not need anybody else to deliver an untimely death. He was doing a fine job of it himself. Abruptly, Harry excused himself from dinner at the Gryffindor table and took position in front of the Great Hall to wait for Draco, who rushed out only shortly later, as Harry had thought he would.

"Talk to me," Harry snarled, "for Merlin's sake."

Draco jumped and had pointed his wand at him before Harry could even blink. His hands were trembling.

"Avoiding me wont solve anything," Harry sighed exasperated, "For anyone, neither for you, for your mother, your father, nor me."

"Talk to me," Harry gulped, "I've been worrying about you. You look like hell."

"Father..." Draco breathed, as if that one word said it all.

"Yes," Harry said and put a hand on Draco's shoulder, "Come on. Let's move this somewhere a little more private."

By some sort of unspoken agreement they moved towards Myrtle's bathroom. They did speak not until they had reached the study.

Draco sat next to Harry on the sofa. Harry sighed loudly. He did not know anymore what to say than when he had first seen the article.

"See, there is nothing to talk about," Draco broke the silence.

"Of course, there is," Harry pinched his nose, "I just don't know where to start and have tried to come up with a strategy, since that bloody article came out," Harry admitted and realized at the same moment that he had not intended to reveal that kind of weakness.

"Right," Draco had yet to look up from his lap.

"This is not the Draco Malfoy I know," Harry stated.

"Well, what would you have me do?" Draco sneered weakly.

"I'm as much at a loss at what to do as you are, I assure you," Harry sighed. While that was true, it surely did nothing to reassure Draco.

"It's just that the Draco I know, would not give up and you, Draco, have given up." Harry blurted out and immediately felt immensely stupid.

"I certainly haven't heard you contribute any useful ideas so far," Draco snapped.

"Well, no," Harry groaned, whatever had given him the idea that talking to Draco would be a good idea.

"But once we've talked this through, we might come up with something," Harry tentatively suggested.

"Whatever gave you the idea that talking is the answer to all problems?!" Draco sounded hysteric, "I don't want to talk at all!" And with that he lunged himself at Harry, tackled him and kissed him forcefully on the lips.

Harry groaned. He had missed this.

"Make me feel," Draco breathed and Harry looked into Draco's gaunt face.

He looked so very delicate, vulnerable, broken. It was heart breaking to feel his bones stick out as he hugged his thin form to himself and kissed his face, running his hands soothingly over his back. Then finally Draco broke down. First Harry felt but tiny, restrained sniffles against his neck, then his whole body was shaking with griefed sobs.

Harry continued to kiss him, stroke him, as his vision went blurry, as well. Harry only hugged him tighter.

"Make me feel," Draco demanded more loudly this time and then it become an ongoing mantra.

"Make me feel,"

Finally, Harry broke down as well. He wanted to help Draco, fix his world for him and yet he felt so helpless, utterly powerless. Once again, it all came crashing down, the weight of destiny, the prophecy, how so many people depended on him, how much there was yet to do. He felt so alone.

Their kissing got frenzied, sometimes painful and yet all the more intoxicating. Finally, an undefined amount of time later they lay exhausted and considerably calmer on the sofa.

"Come on! Tell me what exactly is going through your mind," Harry cajoled, "Then we'll come up with a solution. I wont leave you alone in this."

"You know, not so long ago, I believed that whatever trouble I had my parents, my father, could put to rights. Now there's no one left."

Harry had not grown up with an adult he could have trusted to do that, but he thought he understood the anguish Draco must feel. He also felt no small amount of envy that Draco had had the luxury to grow up like that. He felt disgustingly shallow for it.

"I know he's not a nice man, but he's still my father!" Draco hiccupped.

"He's away from the Dementors. So, I guess, that's good. But he's with the Dark Lord and with my mother's disappearance and me publicly siding with you, he will take out all of his rage on him."

"Would you like me to hide him as well?" Harry asked.

He frowned. He understood Draco's worries and it was obvious that it caused to have Draco conflicting loyalties. Would he risk everything to save his father, if push came to shove? It was only to be expected. After all, it was what Harry would do, were he in his place.

He could not possibly be jealous of Lucius Malfoy? That was ridiculous.

However, kidnapping Lucius Malfoy right from under Voldemort's nose was risky. And what would he do with him, once he had him? Narcissa was rather docile and easy to handle. Lucius however was an entirely different matter. Harry knew he could not trust the man with anything in any way.

Also he could not effort to spend too many of his resources on acquiring a troublesome prisonner and then on preventing him from stabbing him in the back. In the grand scheme of things getting hold of Lucius Malfoy did not seem to have a lot of advantages for him.

The grand scheme of things – he did not like the sound of that – it resembled Dumbledore's 'for the greater good' far too much for his liking. But he had taken on a lot of responsibilties. A lot of people had come to depend on him. Should he jeopardize all that?

"How?" Draco sighed.

"I'll figure out the how later. Let's concentrate on the if for now," Harry suggested.

"Then yes, obviously," Draco looked so hopeless.

"Fine," Harry sighed and leaned back. He closed his eyes, attempting to organize his thoughts.

"You know, I can't trust him," Harry sighed.

Dancing around that issue would not help. No delicate way to voice his concerns came to mind. He had half expected an indignant outburst but was pleasantly surprised by Draco's reply.

"No, you probably shouldn't," Draco admitted.

"But you could benefit greatly from removing him from the Dark Lord. My father has control over all of the family assets, which right now he is obligated to use as the Dark Lord directs. When father is with you, you can demand that he withdraws his financial support completely. I can't image he's too pleased that the Dark Lord is squandering away all of our fortune." Draco bit his lip, "You could demand financial support as well."

"That's an idea," Harry nodded, "I've been trying to come up with ways to cut down Voldemort's monetary resources. I still don't feel comfortable demanding anything which is not freely given though."

"My father could also help to gain you allies, far better than me, actually," Draco bartered.

"Probably," Harry conceded, "The far more pressing issue is trust though."

"My father is a family man through and through," Draco claimed, "He will stand with his family."

Lucius Malfoy – a family man? That concept was a little hard to grasp, but then this might be wishful thinking on Draco's part, although Harry did not have the heart to tell him that. It was only a month since Draco had disclosed to him that his father – the family man - had had an affair with Percy Weasley. Harry bit his lip.

"Even working to protect you, your father will always follow his own interests, which usually would be all right and only to be expected. With your father however..."

That was another point to consider, one he could bring up far more easily than the man's qualities as a father, or husband for that matter. Lucius Malfoy was sneaky and had been honing his cunning for much longer than Harry had. The man was likely to be completely out of Harry's league.

"You could have a magical contract drawn up, or demand an oath..." Draco suggested desperately.

"That might work," Harry groaned. His head hurt.

"Let me sleep over it, okay? I'll come up with something," Harry promised and hoped he would be able to keep that promise. He did not feel comfortable to have Draco pleading, depending on him.

He did not want to force anyone unwilling into an oath, but what could he do? Without further safety matters installed Harry would not stand a chance against Lucius Malfoy, in what would be an ongoing battle of wits.

Once the whole family had had time to discuss their options, maybe he should give them a choice – to leave - preferably the country - after being obliviated from all relevant information, or that Lucius took an oath. Of course, he would let Narcissa and Draco stay anyway, if they wanted.

Lucius Malfoy was more than Draco's father though. He was one of the key figures of the dark side and as such a powerful enemy and a vicious fighter. Should he really just let him go, once he had put so much effort into getting him? If it were not for Draco, Harry would have simply put him under a draught of the living death potion, until the war was over. It would have been an effective way to keep him out of the way.

Now, this was not something he would ever discuss with Hermione, because the ethics of that action were shoddy at best, but the ministry had proven once, again that they were incapable of holding prisonners and keeping them.

Harry pressed his palm against his front. Lightening flashed through his brain. He felt a sharp pricking. His head hurt. He groaned.

"Winky," Harry called and with a pop the tiny elf appeared before him. She appeared healthy. She no longer looked like her skin was much too big for her. It looked no longer dead and was far less wrinkled.

"Master Harry Potter, Sir?"

"Bring us some light food, fruit, soup and sandwiches, please," Harry instructed.

"I'm not hungry," Draco said.

"I figured," Harry pierced him with his gaze, "I've observed your recent eating habits, but you can't allow yourself to be defeated by your own body. You need to take better care of yourself."

Draco gave a curt nod and once the food appeared on the coffee table he began to eat, slowly, washing down the sandwiches and pastries with tea, even though it seemed to take a lot of effort on his part and from time to time he seemed to be gagging.

Harry tentatively helped himself to a sandwich, as well. After all, he had left in the middle of dinner.

"Maybe, you should see Madame Pomfrey for...,"

"No," Draco interrupted, "I can't let anyone see how..."

"How much this affects you?" Harry finished, "But it's obvious for anyone who cares to look, anyway."

"I know what's up with me," Draco hissed, "I don't need a mediwitch to tell me."

"Then at least take some nutrition and strengthening potions," Harry said.

"All right," Draco sighed, "I should anyway, if I want to continue physical training."

"Yes," Harry nodded, "You've gotten really good at it."

"Thanks," Draco mumbled tiredly.


	41. Chapter 41

**Hi everyone. Thanks for reviewing to those of you, who did. It's kind of frustrating that I get hardly any feedback. Even though I've started to write this story, because I wanted to read a story like this myself, your reviews keep me on track. So please review!  
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**As for this chapter, it feels a little like a filler, even though I had said that the story would go at a faster pace from now on. However, putting in more substance into this chapter would mean that you have to wait longer and this chapter is important, too.  
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**Chapter 41**

"The magical world is run almost entirely by magic. The muggle world, however, is run by other types of energy. Till the end of last century muggles mostly relied on manual work, on fire to heat their homes, on wind and water to run their mills. Nowadays, the muggle world is largely powered by electricity," Terry began his lecture about muggle technology.

"What do you know about electricity?" Terry asked.

"It comes out of batteries and plugs," Ginny volunteered and Terry indicated at Lisa Turpin to write it on the board behind him.

"Yes, what else,"

"Com-pju-ters are run by elec-tri-city," Blaise pronounced very carefully.

"Yes," Terry smiled and Lisa added it to the board.

"It's the type of energy also found in a thunder bolt," Harry suggested, feeling that connecting electricity with something they all knew, might make the concept easier for wizards to grasp. After all, it had worked for Salazar Slytherin.

"Yes," Terry grinned excitedly at Harry, "That's a very tangible way of defining it."

"Do you know of any other powers - forces - energy existing in nature?"

"Wind," Neville said and Terry nodded.

"Yes, muggles would call it kinetic energy – motion." he elaborated.

"Fire," said Draco.

"Yes, thermal energy to muggles – heat." Terry explained.

"Water," Susan suggested and Terry nodded.

"Yes, once again muggles would focus on its motion, in regards to energy."

"Before we go into everyday uses of electricity in the muggle world, I would like to give you some background information, so you we can look at it as a whole, instead of merely focussing on separate aspects of muggle technology," Terry continued.

"As I've said before, electricity is a type of energy. Energy cannot be created nor destroyed. The only thing that can happen with energy is that it can change form, for instance, movement can be turned into heat or heat into electricity and so on."

So common forces of nature like motion or heat, are turned into electricity by burning coal or using wind energy, for example. They are transformed in power grids and distributed to every household and to factories. Electricity is easily accessible almost everywhere in the muggle world."

Harry was amazed. Never before had he considered muggle technology in so abstract terms. Yet, those around him were hanging on Terry's every word. Comprehension seemed to dawn on some of their faces.

Harry would have already called it a success, had Terry come up with a way to somehow explain everyday muggle appliances. Wizards had no trust in anything muggle because according to it they should not work.

Wizards were used to abstract and vague magical theory and Terry had adapted his speech about muggle technology wonderfully to that. Even Draco looked impressed.

Now when Terry would talk about cars being run by petrol, they would be able to accept that more easily, because they had acknowledged that heat could be transformed into other kinds of energy like motion.

Then Terry focused on how electricity had changed the muggle world. He talked about industrialisation, mass production and how it had changed muggle life.

"Today almost every family has at least one car, a phone, TV, radio and most also have a computer," Terry concluded his lecture for the day, "How to use them and the basics of how some of them work, we'll cover next week."

Almost all who had attended the lesson, stayed to discuss what they had learnt.

"That went well," Hermione gushed, rushing towards Terry.

"You think so?" Terry asked, "I feared that I would take too much knowledge for granted."

"Simply marvellous," Harry grinned, "Even though I tried to catch up on muggle technology over the summer, I had not reached that kind of understanding."

"Most muggles don't, neither," Hermione frowned, "Most take it for granted and you don't have to understand how it works to use it."

"A truly fascinating lecture," Blaise acknowledged, "Would you in muggle terms consider magic energy? What you called energy mainly corresponds to the five elements as we know them: Fire, water, air, earth and magic, even though you have not mentioned earth in your lecture and, of course muggles don't know about magic."

"Muggles acknowledge earth to have some kind of power – gravity. It causes things to always fall down," Terry said thoughtfully, "You might be onto something there."

"By mere definition magic should be energy, but then..." Hermione gushed excitedly, red blotches forming on her face and rapidly spreading down her neck.

"It's tricky," Terry finished.

"But obviously we change magic into other kinds of energy, like motion, or heat or..." Draco said and Harry was once again impressed that he took all of it in stride, despite his reluctance to consider muggles anything but primitive. Maybe Draco was changing his mind, confronted with proof that muggles had indeed knowledge worth knowing.

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed, "Of course, we do! The first thing we are taught is 'Wingardium Leviosa'."

"But by that logic wouldn't it mean that we could change motion or heat or electricity into magic, as well, in order to power spells?" Terry wondered with a far away look.

"But then magic tends to interfere with or even cancel out other kinds of energy – at least electricity," Harry said, getting excited, as well. If magic could be generated from other forces of nature – Harry could not even begin to imagine the benefits for the wizarding world.

"Imagine, if we could find a way to redirect the energy of offensive spells in some kind of device to power our own spells later on." Terry said.

"Like a battery?" Ginny asked.

"In a way, even though batteries don't really store electricity in a static form," Terry mumbled distractedly.

"We don't know how exactly magic interferes with the other elements," Hermione said.

"Indeed," Blaise said, "but it is definitely worth looking into."

Hermione, Terry, Blaise and Draco stared excitedly at each other. Some kind of understanding seemed to pass between them. Harry had the distinct impression that a new study group had formed and what an odd group it was, two muggleborns thirsting for knowledge and a way to link their two life styles, as well as two rather traditionalist Purebloods driven by ambition, suddenly linked by a common goal. There could not have a been formed a group better equiped for the challenge that lay before them. Great things could come of it.

Neville cast a silent Tempus charm and then said:

"I think, we should move to the Room of Requirement, if we want don't want to skip training for today."

"Agreed," Draco nodded regally and Harry squeezed his hand.

"All of you are welcome to join us, of course," Harry invited the rest of the group.

Hannah, Susan, Lisa, Luna and Terry fell in line behind Harry's usual training group.

The first forty five minutes they kept on the way they had before, speed casting and dodging. Harry and Draco had paired up and for the first half of an hour they were quite evenly matched. Then, however, Draco had to slow down to catch his breath. His movements became sluggish and he stumbled. Harry decided it was time to take a break. They stepped aside to observe the other duelling pairs.

They had come a long way. Adrenaline was still running high form the discussion after the tutoring lesson and was fuelling the speed of their movements and casting.

"I'd like to try something new," Harry called the group to a halt.

"Let's form two opposing teams," he suggested, "to practise team work."

"We will require the room to provide a maze and have it not change while the duel is on. Whoever is incaptivated is out of the game. The duel is over when all members of one team are out."

"Sounds fun," Ginny grinned wickedly.

"Yes, so how should we form the teams?" Neville asked.

"Longbottom and Harry will take their turns in selecting their teams," Draco suggested and as no one had any objections they did just that.

In the end Harry's group consisted of Draco, Luna, Susan, Lisa and Hannah, while Daphne, Ginny, Hermione, Blaise and Terry were in Neville's group.

"I think we should employ shields and transfiguration as well," Susan said.

"Good idea," Harry grinned and the two groups huddled together to devise a strategy.

"I think we should stand in a circle back to back to defend each others backs," Lisa suggested.

"That formation would be far too immobile for an offensive strategy," Draco said, "We'd present an easy target and be immediately on the defensive.

"Yes, I think, we should spread out," Susan agreed.

"I think, we should team up in pairs of two, standing back to back. That won't give them that much of a large target, but we can still defend each others backs, yet avoid being in each others way." Hannah said.

"I agree," Harry nodded.

"Let's try how it works out," Susan suggested, while stepping up next to Hannah.

"All right, I don't think more planning will help right now," Harry shrugged, "You ready to start?" he called to the other team.

"Bring it on," Blaise called back.

Neville's group had gone for cover behind the oddly shaped rubbish the room had provided. Harry tucked at Draco's sleeves to do the same. Perched behind a boulder, he voicelessly cast the disillusionment charm on both himself and Draco. He had never cast the charm before, but he knew the incantation, wand movement and more importantly the concept behind the charm.

Draco nudged his shoulder and Harry felt a tingle at his feet. So Draco had cast something to muffle the sound of his feet – a good idea. The others were already engaged in heated duels from behind their respective covers.

Harry immediately saw the flaw with their covers. They were not fixed to the ground and could be easily summoned.

Apparently, Draco had had the same idea, as he summoned the armchair,where a stream of spells originated from and had barely missed Lisa, who was heatedly berating Luna about something behind a stuffy looking waredrobe.

Blaise, now without cover, yelped in surprise and narrowly avoided the yellow spell Draco sent behind his summoning spell. Then Blaise summoned the boulder Harry and Draco were using as cover. While Blaise was occupied with the summoning spell, Harry hit him with 'Tarantula', while Draco pulled him to the side, before Blaise hit their former position with another hex.

Then suddenly, from the side they were hit with something wet and sticky. Ginny had doused the general area of their position with bright pink paint – probably a spell she had learnt from the twins. It was clogging Harry's eyes, he could hardly see, and yet her laughter gave her away as their attacker. Both he and Draco were now visible once again.

"Incarcerous," Harry thought, imagining ropes to tie Blaise and Ginny together.

Neither Blaise nor Ginny had moved because the spell had appeared entirely off target, heading to a point somewhere in between them. However, ropes formed on the point where the spell hit the ground, spread out and closed in on their targets.

"Wingardium Levisosa," Ginny yelled, pointing her wand at Blaise, who rose in the air before the ropes made contact with his form. Ginny was roped moments later.

Then Harry felt something hit his back. A moment later he lay on the floor unable to move, save for his eyes.

Luna and Draco appeared to be the only ones still standing form their group, while from the other group Blaise had finally gone down, Daphne and Terry were out, leaving only Hermione and Neville still in the game.

Watching Hermione and Luna duel was interesting to watch. Hermione used her large arsenal of advanced spells to attack Luna directly, while Luna was using the weirdest combination of spells to set Hermione off. Some time ago, Hermione had been hit by a hair growth charm and there appeared to be a very strong sticking charm on the ground, forcing Hermione to employ shields, as she was stuck to the floor, while Luna was merely dodging the odd spell Hermione got in, in between casting shields.

Draco and Neville also appeared quite evenly matched. Draco was overly cautious and yet tenacious in his attacks, not once letting up. Both of them were but a distinct blot of colours, as they dodged spells. It might have gotten on for much longer, had Neville not discovered his unexpected faible for employing charms and transfiguration. A wide spread 'Augamenti' cast on the floor followed by a freezing charm, put an end to the duel, when Draco slipped on the iced floor. Before he could recover from the fall he was disarmed and bound.

Hermione and Luna were still engrossed in their rather unique duel, Hermione's hair was by now pooling around her feet. Her hands were trembling under the strain of having to cast so much magic. Luna was bright eyed and red faced. Harry assumed she had been dodging Hermione's spells for at least twenty minutes by now.

However, now with Neville free to help Hermione, Luna did not stand a chance. She was obviously tired out, her movements not as fast as at the beginning. She was hit by 'Expelliarmus' from Hermione and 'Petrificus Totalus' from Neville.

Once all of the spell work had been reversed they settled into the comfortable seating area the room had provided to discuss their duelling match.

"That was fun," Ginny grinned.

"It was," Luna said dreamily.

"I think, everyone should name at least one thing they could do better next time we do this," Harry suggested.

"Yes," Hermione said sternly, "After all, we can only learn from our mistakes."

Hermione was right of course, but did she have to phrase it so annoyingly? He saw a few of the others frown at her.

"All right," Harry said to diffuse the tension, " I'll go first. I should take care to be more aware of my surroundings and watch my back more alertly, instead of only focusing on what's in front of me."

Hannah admitted her knowledge of offensive spells was too limited, Susan said she had not been fast enough. Hermione admitted to her need to employ more creative spell work. Neville wondered, whether he should be more cautious. Lisa said her major weakness had been teamwork, while glowering at Luna.

"Oh," Luna said, "Now that you mention it. That definitely did not work out well."

"Can't you just for once pay attention to anything anybody tells you!" Lisa snapped.

"Can't you?" Luna asked.

"You're impossible," Lisa said, her nose turned up.

Harry bit his lip. He had not seen how Lisa had been hit. The only thing he had seen was Lisa berating Luna, instead of paying attention to what was going on around her. Luna had been amazing till she had been up against both Hermione and Neville. Both girls were Ravenclaws and Harry knew Luna had been bullied by house mates. What should he do?

"How were you hit, Lisa?" Harry asked neutrally.

"Quite early," Lisa admitted quite disgruntled, "Luna wouldn't listen to my suggestions."

"Then I think what you should learn from this match is that disagreements should be left behind, when pairing up as a team," Harry said.

Lisa remained silent, a sullen pout forming on her lips. Then shortly after she exited the room.

"I think, your duelling techniques were really inspiring, by the way," Harry grinned at Luna.

"Thanks, Harry," Luna smiled tiredly, "I guess, I'll turn myself in."

"Good night," the group called as Luna left, as well, followed shortly after by the rest of the group.

Only Draco and Harry stayed behind, slouching in a comfortable love seat. They were both rather sweaty and Harry felt that traces of paint still clung to his skin or at least his hair.

"Scourgify," Harry cast the spell at himself. Apparently, he had felt a little too dirty, considering the force of the charm. Being careful to adjust the force of the charm, he cast the same charm at Draco.

"Thanks," Draco said.

"We should pay your mother a visit to discuss the most recent developments," Harry sighed after a moment of silence. That would be an uncomfortable conversation, but it had to be done.

"Yes," Draco bit his lip.

"How about tomorrow before dinner?" Harry suggested.

"All right," Draco nodded, "Have you come up with something?"

"Nothing definite as of yet," Harry reluctantly admitted.

"You got mother out just fine," Draco said.

"True," Harry sighed, "I have yet to check, whether that course of action is still available to me."

"Why haven't you, yet?" Draco snapped.

"I guess, I've been too caught up in the logistics of it all," Harry admitted with a frown, "Besides, I could not find the time to disappear without being noticed since we have last talked."

"Right," Draco's shoulders sacked, "It's just ... I worry so much."

"It's all right," Harry clasped his shoulder, "I understand."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Harry had cast an alert charm to wake him at six in the morning, quietly showered and dressed, grabbed his book bag and headed towards the Room of Requirement.

"Dobby, " he called to the empty space in the room.

"Harry Potter has called Dobby," Dobby gushed happily.

Dobby looked so different from other house elves now. His skin was faintly glowing, his cheeks flushed and his large eyes shining. At first sight one would no longer recognize him as a house elf. While Harry was happy that Dobby's health was steadily improving, he also knew that Dobby had to keep hidden from wizarding eyes, as his appearance would raise questions.

How would the present wizarding world react to a magically strong and healthy house elf The reactions were likely to be volatile, dangerous. House elf-wizarding relations were a project for another time. He hardly dared to admit to himself that he did not want to lose the advantage the knowledge of their unique knowledge brought him. It seemed like a version of Dumbledore's doing.

Growing up, made doing the right thing much more complicated. There no longer was a sole right action. The question he was forced to ask himself was: Right for whom? It had become painfully obvious that right for all did not excist most of the time.

"Dobby," Harry said, "You look well."

"Harry Potter is taking good care of his house elves," Dobby said proudly.

"I need to ask you a favour," Harry paused, "You might not like it."

"Anything for Harry Potter," Dobby jumped up and down in excitement.

"Please, hear me out first," Harry cautioned.

"I have promised to Draco I would try to break his father out from Voldemort's clutches."

Dobby's eyes grew huge but he remained silent.

"I have come to care for Draco very deeply," Harry continued, unsure how to explain his reasoning to Dobby. Yet, he wanted Dobby to understand. While Dobby was likely to do as he asked without questions, Harry did not want to exploit his friend.

"Lucius Malfoy is a bad wizard, he is," Dobby said empathetically.

"Yes, he is," Harry agreed wholeheartedly, "But with Voldemort he will be able to cause more damage than hidden away with his wife."

"Lucius Malfoy is a bad wizard," Dobby's ears dropped.

"I know, I can't trust him," Harry sighed.

"Dobby protects Harry Potter," Dobby proclaimed fiercely.

"I know, you do," Harry smiled, "You're a great friend."

"Harry Potter is a true friend of house elves," Dobby clutched Harry's hand.

"What wants Harry Potter Dobby to do?" Dobby asked then.

"Can you find out, whether you could take Lucius from behind the wards of Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked. After all, the wards had probably been altered after Narcissa's disappearance. While they would not know what they were warding against, it still might no longer be possible for Dobby to pass the wards.

"Dobby looks," the elf said and popped away only to return moments later.

"Dobby cants go to Malfoy Manor," Dobby said.

"What changed?" Harry frowned.

"Lord of the Manor recasts wards, He-who-must-not-be-named, too.

"Would Narcissa still be able to go there?" Harry asked.

"Narcissa is Lady of the Manor," Dobby nodded, "but he-who-must-not-be named knows then, too."

"What about Draco?" Harry asked, trying to understand the concept behind the wards.

"Draco is heir, not Lord," Dobby shook his head.

"Can Narcissa include anyone into the wards?" Harry inquired further. He needed to be sure he had considered all venues of action.

"She not casts wards. Can't keeps her out, but no control," Dobby tried to put his observations into words.

"But were she to order you to retrieve something from the manor?" Harry asked, still unsure how house elf magic worked.

"Dobby's magic is not hers to order, no longer Dobby's mistress." Dobby shook his head.

"Then how did you manage to get past the wards last time?" Harry asked, "I've never had permission to enter the wards."

"Dobby had permission from when I is being theirs house elf," Dobby shivered, "Lowly house elves' not important, they is not taking away permission to enter wards."

"Oh," Harry blinked, trying to sort the information and come up with a course of action, "So does that mean, we'll have to wait till he leaves the wards?"

"It does," Dobby said.

"Thank you," Harry sighed. Of course, the same trick would not work twice.

"Can you keep an eye on him to take him to one of the save houses the moment he steps out of the wards?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dobby said.

"Disarm him and immobilize him, protect yourself and inform me as soon as you can without having anyone notice," Harry instructed, "But don't deny him comfort when you can give it. Don't let him see you though."

"Harry Potter can trusts Dobby!" the elf exclaimed.

"I know," Harry squeezed Dobby's hand, "and I do."

Harry then arranged for Dobby to transport him and Draco to Mrs Malfoy in the evening, when they would both touch their saucer portkey decoy.

With a start Harry realized that while talking strategy with Dobby, Mrs Malfoy had turned into Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had been shortened to Lucius. Mr and Mrs Malfoy would have quickly become confusing, but in hindsight it seemed strange.

Harry finally listened to his grumbling stomach and left for breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Morning," Harry called to his friends at his table after he had given his greetings to those seated at other house tables.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I've been up early," Harry said vaguely, while he helped himself to some grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs and toast.

"I've noticed," Hermione said stiffly, "You hardly tell us anything, anymore," she huffed.

"He doesn't have to tell us anything," Neville cautioned Hermione gently, obviously sensing an argument coming their way.

"We're his friends," Hermione snapped, "Of course, he should tell us."

"Even friends are entitled to privacy," Neville said.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry nodded at him, while he tucked into his breakfast.

"You can't just bottle everything up forever, Harry," Hermione said in an exasperated tone of voice.

"I don't thing I'm bottling anything up," Harry said and reached for a grape, "All things considered I think, I'm coping quite well."

"You should talk about what's troubling you sometimes, though," Hermione said.

"Who says I don't?" Harry stared her down. He was really getting annoyed at her, which was happening with increasing frequency for the last months.

"You're not talking to me, though," Hermione stated.

"True," Harry nodded.

"You can talk to me!" she exclaimed. Harry nodded. They were running in circles.

"I think, he knows that, Hermione," Neville attempted to mediate, "It's still his decision, if he wants to though. It should be enough for you to know that he knows we're there for him."

"Who are you talking to, anyway?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Leave him alone, Hermione," Ginny said from a little further down the table.

"Don't any of you care?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"Of course, we care," Ginny and Neville said simultaneously, "which is why we tell you to drop this," Ginny added heatedly, her fiery temper shining through.

"You don't tell us everything, neither," Harry said and gave Hermione a look, thinking of when Hermione had attempted to keep her study date with Terry Boot secret. Hermione blushed.

"That's..., that's different!"

"How so?" Harry asked, "Pray tell, how is that any different? Mind you, I accept that certain aspects of your life are private and therefore have no interest in sticking my nose in."

All right, he had not been on a date, or snogging somewhere – this time - but that was beside the point.

"Malfoy has been at the Great Hall for half an hour before you have shown up," Hermione said.

Harry shook his had. Brilliant, now she thought he was being with someone behind Draco's back.

"What part of it's none of your business did you not understand," Harry hissed. Harry did not think that it would go over well, if he told her he had been plotting the kidnapping of Lucius Malfoy.

"Anyway, I'm off to class," Harry said, grabbed an apple and left the Great Hall.

"Meet me in front of the Great Hall after dinner?" Harry asked when he passed Draco on his way to class.

Draco stared quizzically at him and Harry answered his unvoiced question with a tiny nod.

"Sure"

Despite his apprehension about his upcoming talk with Narcissa, Harry managed to concentrate on his lessons. Their speed-casting dodging excersises had not only done wonders for his duelling skills, but had also greatly improved his abilities to learn new spells.

In Transfiguration they had moved on to Conjuration – one of the hardest fields of magic there was. They had started with small things. Conjuring a pebble out of thin air already was something most beginners were struggling with. Harry, however, managed to conjure an evenly formed pebble halfway through the lesson. He was still a long way from conjuring chairs like he had seen Dumbledore and McGonagall casually do multiple times before but he had gotten the hang of it much faster than what was the norm.

Once he understood the concept and intent behind a spell, he could cast it flawlessly on the first try, more often than not voicelessly. He had come a long way. He was not the only one. All who had been training regularly with him had been steadily becoming more proficient with their wand work in every subject.

Harry took a break, his very first conjured pebble in front of him and watched the conjuration attempts of his friends.

Neville sat next to him, his eyes closed and muttering under his breath.

"Inanimatus Conjurus," Neville said confidently.

On his table a shiny slightly crooked pebble materialized. Neville opened his eyes and grinned brightly.

"I did it!" he exclaimed, but he did not sound surprised. Then he picked up his pebble to examine it from all sides. Harry noticed that the back of Neville's stone looked different, the shape more uneven. He frowned.

Harry looked at his own stone. Its front and back looked exactly the same, but he could not say what he had done differently.

"How did you manage to make it look differently on the back," Harry asked.

"I don't know. I didn't mean to," Neville said, "I did not think about how I wanted it to look on the other side."

"Oh," Harry blinked, "I did not put much thought into it, either. I just remembered that pebble I used to carry with me, when I was a kid, how it felt and looked like, even though I don't remember all the details.

"Let's try a specific shape then," Neville suggested.

"How about a sphere?" Harry suggested.

Neville closed his eyes, again, said the spell and in front of him appeared a shiny black sphere.

That night after dinner Draco and Harry set off towards the Room of Requirement.

"So," Draco said anxiously, "have you got everything figured out?"

"Kind of," Harry sighed, "Still need to work out the details though."

Together they held onto the saucer and were transported to Narcissa's living room. Narcissa was standing in front of the window, watching the neighbourhood, which admittedly looked rather lifeless.

"Mother," Draco called softly to her and Mrs Malfoy turned around.

"Draco," she inclined her head.

Draco stepped up to kiss her hand in greeting.

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry bowed and Draco's mother curtsied in response.

"Have a seat," Mrs Malfoy invited, slipping into her role as polite hostess, "I'll have some tea and pastries brought up."

"Winky," she called and the house elf arrived with a tea tray and some light snacks.

"Thanks," Harry gave a strained smile, thinking about the conversation they were about to have.

After each of them had fixed their tea to their liking, they sat in strained silence, from time to time taking a sip of their tea.

"I don't think there is a way to give you these news more gently," Harry finally said, handing her the article on her husband's breakout.

Mrs Malfoy's eyes widened, if only barely, then she read the article with what could only be forced calmness. Finally, she meticulously folded the article and placed it on the table. Then she settled back into the love seat, folding her hands in her lap.

"We have come here to discuss our course of action with you," Harry finally said. Mrs Malfoy remained silent.

"Harry agreed to hide father away with you," Draco insecurely put a hand on his mother's shoulders.

"On what conditions?" Mrs Malfoy regarded Harry shrewdly.

"I will need some kind of magical assurance that he wont stab me in the back, obviously," Harry said, "I'll have yet to work out the details."

Mrs Malfoy pressed her lips tightly together but said nothing.

"How much, or even if at all he wants to involve himself in the war on my side is up to him," Harry explained further.

"What do you hope to gain from this, Mr Potter?"

"Your husband is a cunning and dangerous opponent," Harry stated, "I'd rather take him out of the game."

"Of course, you are aware that there are more foolproof measures to achieve that goal," Mrs Malfoy said stiffly.

"I had briefly entertained the notion of putting him under a dreamless sleep potion till the war is over," Harry admitted.

"You'll let him live," Mrs Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"If I can help it," Harry nodded, "Surely, you are not suggesting that I kill him?"

"I think, this is my mother's way to question your motives," Draco winced.

"Seems rather risky to me," Harry said, "It might give me ideas."

"You're not that ruthless," Draco said, although he did not seem that sure of himself.

"I will do whatever it takes to survive and win this war," Harry declared, "Were Lucius Malfoy not your father, I wouldn't value his life nearly as much. Our past encounters have not exactly been pleasant."

There was a glint in Mrs Malfoy's eyes now. Scheming Slytherins! He replayed what he had said in his head and realized he had just revealed to Mrs Malfoy that he cared about her son. He knew, he could count on her to use that knowledge as leverage against him.

"But should he prove to be uncooperative I reserve the option of the dreamless sleep potion," Harry said therefore.

"So when can I expect my husband to arrive?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

"It might take some time," Harry admitted, "The wards have been changed since you disappeared."

"That was to be expected," Mrs Malfoy conceded.

They sipped their tea. The topic seemed closed. Even though there were still plenty of loose ends, neither of them seemed willing to discuss them, for fear it might reveal a weakness that could put them at a disadvantage.

"On another note, I have started to take notes on our culture as you requested," Mrs Malfoy said.

"That's great. Thank you," Harry inclined his head.

"I've brought you notes on muggle technology, mother," Draco blushed, "It's amazing. If some of their concepts could be applied to magic..."

His mother stared at him with a rather pinched look, but she did not dare say anything reprimanding on the matter.

"I'll go through those notes," she finally said stiffly.


	43. Chapter 43

Thank you so much for your inspiring reviews and sorry for the long wait! I had been very busy and in the little free time I had, I was suffering from writer's block. I simply did not know how to go on from that point, even though I've had the general plot down from the beginning and a lot of future scenes are playing out in movie like quality in my head.

**After such a long wait, the least I can do is answer your questions:**

**The house elves: I always thought they looked incredibly dehydrated and malnourished– what if it's not water and food they need to flourish but magic. Malnourishment can also effect growth. I vaguely had a typical elf in mind as a picture on how a house elve would look like, if it were healthy from the beginning. Of course, generations of malnourishment and abuse have changed them – they have become smaller, but with improving conditions they still will grow quite a bit.**

**As for Harry dragging the wizarding world into present times – definitely! It has already started. Blaise's interest in computers, Terry's lecture on muggle technology. The first to see to a business opportunity in adapting something muggle to magic are likely to be Slytherins. In this chapterPurebloods are further introduced to muggle society, as well.**

**As for Hermione, she will continue to have rather embarrassing and painful wake up calls about her behaviour, but Harry does not need to do all the work. Let's have others battle it out with her.**

**Snape- well, I'd like to remind you that everything apart from Harry (and of course other persons' actions resulting in Harry's reformed attitude) is supposed to still be canon! Snape will play an important role later on!**

**Dumbledore – especially the way I have written him – sometimes I would really like to throttle him. Will Harry mourn him? **

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**Chapter 43**

"It would be great to learn and practice non magical healing as well," Daphne said to the group at large after her lesson on magical healing, "There could always be a time when we can't use magic, don't have potions on hand or whatever."

"I agree," Harry said immediately, "Only we would need a qualified teacher."

"My brother is a paramedic," Sandra Higgins piped up tentatively, "I'm sure he would be willing to teach us for a couple of days, but we would have to do that in the muggle world, maybe during the holidays." She shrank back a little when she realized that everyone was looking at her.

"We could hold the seminar at my place," Terry volunteered.

"We're likely to be a lot of people," Hermione bit her lips, "Are you sure your parents would agree for you to have twenty something people over for a couple of days?"

"I don't see why not," Terry shrugged, "My sister is having parties with even more people all the time during the summer. I've never hosted a party and I'm sure you're far better behaved than most of her guests."

"Maybe we could camp in the garden," Hermione suggested.

"If we're no more then twenty, you would all fit into the guest rooms, if you shared. I'm sure we'd manage never mind how many sign up for the course."

"Are you sure your parents will agree to that?" Hermione gaped.

I think, it would be brilliant for all of us first years to sleep in one room!" a first year exclaimed,

„Yes, it would never be possible at Hogwarts," a pug faced Slytherin said with a gleam in his eyes.

Apparently, the first years had become a rather close knit group with a lot of friendships forming independently from house affiliations.

„I'm sure that could be arranged," Terry quirked a smile.

"I'll ask my parents,," Terry nodded to Hermione, "I'd better not simply spring it on them, but I can make it my extended birthday party. I haven't had a birthday party for some time."

"I'll owl my brother," Sandra said, "He'll have to know a bit in advance, so he can arrange for three free days in a row or maybe trade shifts with someone."

"Your brother will probably need some equipment, as well. If he sends you a list, I'm sure someone at home can take care of it." Terry suggested.

"I guess, we should have the seminar either at the beginning or the end of the holidays – makes transport easier." he added then to the group at large.

Everyone seemed very excited about the prospect of spending time in the muggle world in what they probably considered a secure environment, as only Terry's family would be around. Few of the Purebloods had ever more than passed through the muggle world.

As the excited chatter around him went on Harry thought about the nearing Easter holidays. There was so much to do. He would like to meet Remus, he needed to arrange for the muggleborn students to have their blood tested with the goblins and in between he'd preferably come up with a way to kidnap Lucius Malfoy. Of course, there was also likely a traditional holiday to pop up.

What would he do about Draco? It would be good for Draco to learn about muggle healing and also to learn his way in the muggle world. It might be that Draco would need to spend some time in the muggle world before long and so far he would stand out because he would not know even the basics about how to deal with muggle technology. He would make a spectacle of himself, if he had to work a light switch.

Also the prospect of spending more time with Draco, possibly even spending a whole night with him was very exciting. Harry felt his pulse quicken. Would Mrs Longbottom maybe allow them to share a room? As far as Harry could gather, pureblood society was rather blasé about sexual relations. But then Pureblood witches hardly ever got pregnant without the aid of a fertility potion.

"Witches and wizards are a rare and noble breed," was how Draco had explained it, when they had lain squished together sweatily on the couch in the room of requirement, "The nobler the breed, the more difficult reproduction becomes."

Harry had translated that to mean that the inbreeding had weakened the Pureblood lines physically, but had decided to keep that opinion to himself because Draco's hand had been caressing him far too enticingly for them to begin an argument just then.

A natural pregnancy was considered a blessing of nature. Of course, the couple would then be required to marry. The whole pregnancy issue did not concern him and Draco, of course. Even though two wizards could have children together, it was impossible to accidently knock another wizard up.

A whole night with Draco in his bed, no hurry, no hiding – or maybe being with Draco in that amazing hot tub – Harry's breath hitched. Draco raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Harry from the other side of the table, then he smirked and licked his lips. Harry stifled a groan. He had to stop thinking about that.

All in all, he would like to spend the holiday with Draco. Harry was sure Draco would prefer to spend the holidays with his mother but while there was enough space to accommodate Draco and himself inside the house, they could not simply disappear to some unknown location. It would raise questions he wanted to hold off for as long as possible.

Thinking more about the house and everything that went with it, he realized that no one knew about the house or Dobby and Winky. What were they to do, if something happened to him? That would be a problem. Also he could not simply abandon them, they would wither away without a focus. He had taken on a lot of responsibilities over the last couple of months.

He needed to appoint someone to work with his house elves, someone they could approach, if Harry was not available. But who would he trust with that task?

While he knew that Draco wanted to know how his mother was protected, Harry could not disclose that secret to him. Draco would be horrified that his mother's protection relied on beings he considered beneath him. Also while Draco was hot and he even trusted him, it was better to have some insurance – Harry was the only one who knew where his mother was and how to get to her. Draco would likely tell his mother, if he learnt and when his father came living with them as well, he would get that information out of his son as well. No, Harry could not tell Draco. Draco would not be able to work with his house elves, anyway.

Obviously, Hermione was out of the question. Neville was reliable and loyal, but would he work well with his house elves? He probably was to deeply into Pureblood customs to adapt to Harry's approach, not capable to think out of the box.

If there was one person capable of thinking out of the box, it was Luna. She would get on fabulously with Dobby and Winky. They had not interacted a lot this year. He had been rather busy, plotting learning and scheming and then there had been Draco. However, he trusted Luna to keep his secret. No one would even suspect her to know anything of importance. She would be safe. He definitely would introduce her to his house elves, even if he would not yet tell her about the house or the Malfoys.

He thought back on the problem at hand- the Easter holidays. Once again his plans for the holidays would largely depend on the willingness of one of his wizarding friends to accommodate not only himself but Draco, as well.

However, Draco was a Malfoy, part of a family that was not at all popular within the circle of his friends. He would need to ask Neville and his grandmother, if they would have them over. Neville and Draco had never particularly gotten along, even though they had hardly interacted since the beginning of the school year.

Draco had become easier to get along with, although he still managed to offend people on a regular basis. However, Harry felt that Draco would know all about being a good guest. It was part of those Pureblood manners that were an inseparable part of being a Malfoy. Surely, he would try?

Harry felt Draco's gaze on himself and when he met his eyes, Draco tilted his head imperceptibly towards the exit. Harry nodded and together they left the room under the giggling whispers of several girls and Hermione's disapproving stare.

Surely, Hermione did not still think he was messing around with someone behind Draco's back – as if he even had the time for that!

Harry tentatively took Draco's hand. They did not have a hand holding kind of relationship and he was about to just drop his hand, when he noticed that Draco looked rather pleased – smug - by his gesture. So Harry squeezed his hand and grinned.

"Room of Requirement then?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harry smirked, " Definitely"

"So what exactly is it that you require?" Draco asked when Harry impatiently paced in front of the room..

"You!" Harry stated.

"The door sprang up and Harry pulled Draco in. The room looked suspiciously like his room at Longbottom Estate.

"Interesting choice of room," Draco observed, while he took off his robe, under robe boots and boxers.

"You seemed to have a rather kinky day dream back in the common room," Draco looked at him from the bed.

"Kinky?" Harry frowned, "I just thought how nice it would be to spend the holidays with you," Harry admitted.

"What had Longbottom got to do with that?" Draco asked.

"Neville?" Harry sat down on the bed.

"Well, the walls of this room are decorated with the Longbottom coat of arms," Draco raised his eyebrows, his expression suspiciously blank but there was a certain edge to they way he said that.

"Oh," Harry blinked.

Of course, he had noticed that the flowery design was a recurring theme at Longbottom Estate, but he had had no idea that it was their family's coat of arms.

"I thought that maybe Neville would invite both of us for the holidays." Harry explained.

"So, Longbottom himself did not star in that fantasy of yours?" Draco asked seemingly casual.

"What?" Harry's eyes widened, "Hell, no!"

"Good," Draco lay back on the bed, "Are you planning on joining me?"

Harry grinned and managed to shed his clothes in record time.

„Neville," Harry asked on the way back to Gryffindor the next day after classes, "Could I have word with you?"

„Sure," Neville stopped and they waved Ginny and Hermione off to go on without them.

„So what would you like to talk about?" Neville asked once they had warded the nearest empty class room.

„The Easter holidays, actually," Harry bit his lips.

„Would you like to spend the holidays at Longbottom Estate,"Neville offered immediately, "we would be glad to have you over."

"Thank you, I would like that," Harry paused, "But I would like to spend the holidays with Draco, as well."

"Uh," Neville said, "I guess, he has nowhere else to go," and reluctantly added, "I'd have to check with Gran, whether it is alright, but maybe he could come, too."

"... if he behaves," remained unspoken and yet was as clearly implied as if spoken aloud.

"Thanks Nev," Harry said.

"I'll owl her immediately," Neville smiled tentatively.

He took out parchment, quill and ink from his bag and started to pen a letter to his grandmother. With a shrug Harry started to write his own letter to the goblins to set up a date for the muggleborn blood test at Gringott's.

Inwardly he groaned. They would need to inconspicuously arrange another top secret meeting with the muggleborn students to disclose the date, arrange a meeting place and whatever else came up.

The next day Harry and Draco both received an owl from Augusta Longbottom, inviting them for the Easter holidays.

"Thanks a lot for doing this, Nev" Harry said sincerely. He only hoped Dumbledore would not make things difficult for Draco. Dumbledore did not want Harry and Draco to be close. Draco could not give a note from his parents that he was allowed to spent his holidays at Neville's. So, if it somehow leaked out that Draco would not be returning to Malfoy Manor – to Death Eater headquarters – Dumbledore could insist that Draco had to stay at Hogwarts.

Of course, Dumbledore would know that Draco could not go home but that knowledge was inofficial and he could not prevent Draco from going home without showing his hand. Of course, the Headmaster would never officially learn that Draco had not arrived at Longbottom Estate. It was not like he would officially be reported missing and Lucius Malfoy could not floo Dumbledore to inquire about the whereabouts of his son, neither.

After classes that day Dobby brought a note from Ragnok setting the date for all muggleborn blood tests for eleven a clock on April 20th.

Harry set about drafting the letter, inviting all muggleborn students for the coming Sunday at eight in the Room of Requirement and cast several concealment and secrecy charms on them. Then he set about duplicating the letter and distributing them to his friends so they could give them to their contacts from the other houses, who would hand them to their invited house mates.

It was a rather complicated procedure but it had worked last time and he would really prefer, if the wizarding world found out about their research on the ancestry of muggleborns after the fact.


	44. Chapter 44

**Hi everyone, Sorry, in case you feel that the plot is moving too slowly, but what Harry is trying to accomplish takes time and doesn't always run smoothly. He has to properly built up his network of allies before he can act. A lot of things have changed already and I hope in a realistic way. There will be time for action later, but in general this story is more focused on the inner workings of the mind rather than on action scenes.  
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**You will soon learn why there have been no reports of attacks in the story so far. This story is strictly from Harry's point of view, which is still rather limited, so we'll have to wait for him to obtain that information.**

**Next chapter should finally be the Easter holidays featuring the blood tests and Draco and Mrs Longbottom at the dinner table. (I love awkward situations, if it's not me in that situation!). Then in the following chapter we'll have the seminar on muggle healing at Terry's and kidnapping Lucius Malfoy. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed my story. Some of them have been very inspiring. However, I would wish that more of you reviewed! The stats show that my readership is not that small and yet i've never gotten more than 13 reviews for one chapter. So please review! it is very inspiring and motivating to receive a lot of reviews!**

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Chapter 44  
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The next days Harry kept busy. At the meeting with the muggleborn students, Harry invited them to come to Gringott's on the 15th of march. He had expected the meeting to go over relatively smoothly, but as it turned out a lot of the students had plans for the holidays, visiting relatives, going on vacations. Muggleborn students had muggle relatives, who had no idea that their, niece, nephew or grandchild, was magical. It would make vanishing for a day difficult to explain.

"I can do this some other time," a fourth year Ravenclaw suggested.

"Sure," Harry nodded, "I should have scheduled the meeting with the goblins sooner, so you could have fit it in your plans for the holidays." Having no family himself, he tended to forget that people made plans to meet family, when they came home over the holidays.

"You really think this is important, don't you?" Sandra Higgins commented.

"Yes, I do," Harry nodded.

It seemed the others were not as committed to prove their ancestry as he was, didn't see how this could mess with the Pureblood's world views, but then they were not as involved in the war as he was, neither. Even though they were the prime targets of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, so far the war had had little bearing on their own lives. Of course, the prejudices still effected them at Hogwarts, but to them it probably did not feel real, like a real threat. While Harry himself had had to fight for his life on a yearly basis, the others were pretty much sheltered from the reality out of Hogwarts. Muggleborns had no relatives to tell them about the horrors of the first war. It probably had not hit home, yet that they and their families were in danger. While most of the invited muggleborns had already attended Hogwarts during Harry's second year, the truth of what exactly had happened, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened had never really spread.

"Things are getting worse, with the Azkaban breakout Voldemort is preparing for war in earnest. If we can make only a few Pureblood traditionalists rethink their views, it would already make things a lot more difficult for Voldemort."

"Wont they just say that we are a stain on their unblemished bloodlines that needs to be eliminated?" Terry frowned thoughtfully, "I'm definitely curious, whether I've got magical ancestors somewhere along the line, but I doubt it will help to fight prejudices."

"Of course, some of them will see it this way but then some of them might come to the conclusion that the concept of blood purity is flawed," Harry argued.

"But those others – what will they do to Squibs born into their family then?" Hermione looked worried, "A lot of families already kill them. If they find out that those squibs could have offspring that could blemish their bloodline some time in the future, even more families might consider killing them instead of leaving them in the muggle world."

"I don't think it would make that much of a difference, as it would only concern the most radical Purebloods and their kids already know to flee, if they have not shown any sign of magic shortly before they turn eleven," Harry said.

"It's not right!" Hermione exclaimed heatedly.

"No, of course it isn't!" Harry immediately agreed, „but look – maybe some would also consider to keep in touch with the squibs in their family to offer guidance to any magical offspring born into that branch of the family," Harry sighed,

In the end, they all agreed to make some time during the holidays to take the blood test, even those who could not make it on march 15th. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Terry and Sandra stayed behind with Harry and Hermione after the meeting. Sandra looked particularly small standing next to Hermione and Terry. She hunched even further when she felt the attention shift to her person.

"My father agreed to let me have you lot over for up to three days. He also said to send over a list of supplies. He'll have his secretary arrange for everything," Terry broke the silence.

"His secretary?" Hermione looked incredulously at him.

"My father usually is very busy," Terry shrugged, "His secretary takes care of everything, as long as it does not concern the magical world."

"My brother has agreed to tutor us, as well," Sandra gushed, "He asked that we as a group send a list of topics and questions we'd like to go through. He's given a couple of courses on first aid before, but only ever for muggles. He's very excited," she blushed.

"Oh, this is going to be great!" Harry grinned brightly at her and then at Terry.

Therefore, Harry decided to pay Slughorn a visit, inquire about his progress in the wolvesbane research.

He also needed a vial of the Draught of Living Death. While he hoped he could gain Lucius Malfoy's cooperation of his own free will, backed up by an Unbreakable Vow, he wanted to present him a way out with a vial of Living Death. He needed to give him a choice, even if it was only the choice between the lesser of two evils.

Lucius Malfoy might even be assured by his ruthlessness to see his plans through. Harry's determination to win this war by any means neccessary might just be the key to obtaining the coopoeration of an equally ruthless man.

With this in mind Harry knocked on the door of Slughorn's quarters and Slughorn opened the door after a couple of moments. It appeared Slughorn was still getting dressed. His striped velvet robes were only half buttoned. He was red faced and his hair was still damp.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said politely.

"Harry," Slughorn exclaimed jovially enough, but also with a tinge of weariness, "Do come in. I was just about to have breakfast. Would you care to join me?"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry smiled, "Just some tea, please."

„Of course," Slughorn waved him to an armchair, „Do make yourself comfortable."

Slughorn summoned a second tea cup out of his pantry and served Harry a cup of tea. Harry settled into the armchair and took a sip of his tea. He patiently waited for Slughorn to start eating, while he searched for an appropriate thing to say. Small talk really was not his forte.

„I hope you are well?" Harry asked.

„Thank you for asking, I've been quite well." Slughorn said, „I'm planning to have a party for the day before the holidays. I hope you will be joining us with your friends?"

„I'd love to," Harry said. He did not enjoy this kind of parties, but they might just prove useful in gaining information and allies. Also this was one small thing he could do to make Slughorn feel appreciated in his efforts and that seemed to be what Slughorn was all about.

„So you are seeing young Mr Malfoy now?" Slughorn asked with a glint in his eyes, „You are quite the striking couple."

„I quite agree," Harry smirked. My – that man was a gossip.

„Unexpected but lovely," Slughorn rambled, obviously fishing for information. He sounded quite out of breath, „I would have thought it difficult for the two of you to work together on a political level?"

„It has been working out quite well," Harry smirked.

„A very savy move on your part," Slughorn complimented him, shifting restlessly in his armchair and at the same time moving closer to Harry.

Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement but otherwise remained silent. He was not about to satisfy that man's curiousity and had in fact avoided giving out any information without appearing too short with the man, who strived on knowing compromising details about his associates.

Harry repressed his urge to put some distance between himself and his professor. There was something about Slughorn that had made him dislike the man at first sight. And every time the man looked at him, was closing in on him, he felt a little more repulsed by him. He just could not put his finger on it.

"So what brings you here?" Slughorn asked, breaking the silence.

"To check up on your progress with the resaerch on the wolvesbane potion. Do you have all the supplies you need?" Harry asked, not about to disclose the main purpose of his visit just yet.

"It would appear so," Slughorn nodded, "Wolvesbane takes a long time to brew. After having delivered the first batch as you asked and starting on the next batch, I have set up the first batch of experiemental potions, meanwhile further dissecting the properties of the potion and looking for possible subtitutes."

"Thank you,„ Harry smiled, „I can only recommend you on your dedication."

"It is a rather challenging project," Slughorn beamed at him, his minty breath ghosting uncomfortably over Harry's face.

"I have got another request to make," Harry decided to let the cat out of the bag, "I need you to brew the Draught of the Living Death and the antidote."

"Why..., What," Slughorn paled, "I'm quite sure I don't want to know."

"You're probably better off not knowing," Harry agreed.

While Harry would not have told him how he intended to use the potion, anyway, and Slughorn's reluctance to question him therefore worked to his adavantage, the man's compliance to take part in what he clearly suspected to be ethically questionable was sickening. The coward clearly relied on being able to claim ignorance later on.

„When will you need it?" asked Slughorn.

„As soon as possible," Harry said, „but before the holidays at the latest."

„That is not a lot of time," Slughorn frowned.

"I apologize for the short notice," Harry said, „but the Draught of the Living Death takes only two hours to brew and the ingredients are quite standard."

"Of course," Slughorn sighed, „You could have just brewed it yourself then."

"Probably," Harry acknowledged, „But I'm far from being a potions master. The consequences would be too severe, were I to brew it less than flawlessly."

If the potion was faulty it might kill Lucius Malfoy and Harry really did not want any more blood on his hands than absolutely necessary. Besides Draco would never forgive him, Harry would never forgive himself, if he caused the death of Draco's father by accident.

"Well, then let's get started immediately. You can oversee the brewing. Two minds are sharper than one, four hands achieve greater things than two and four eyes see more than one," Slughorn offered.

"Thank you," Harry felt relieved,

While he knew that right now it was in Slughorn's best interest to cooporate with Harry, Harry's gut was telling him that he should never trust a man so cowardly and so morally flexible.

"That should be very educational," Harry added. It would be interesting to watch a potions master brew.

While Slughorn had claimed Harry should assist him with the potion, Harry was delegated to a chair out of the way, immediately after they had set up the work bench together. Slughorn downed a Calming Draught before he started to prepare the ingredients with great precision. When he started brewing, he did so with a look of deep concentration on his face, small droplets of sweat forming on his forehead.

So Slughorn was indeed aware that if there was a flaw in the potion, he would have a death on his concsiousness and that at least made him uneasy. Harry himself felt quite sick at the idea of subjecting anyone to the Draught of the Living Death, but he at least knew his own reasoning.

After two hours Slughorn presented Harry with five vials of the Draught of the Living Death, promising to have the antidote ready by the next day. Harry reclined the offer of overseeing its brewing. He doubted he would be able to detect a fault in the brewing, anyway and what good would delegating tasks do, if he felt obliged to oversee everything every step of the way.

Once he left Slughorn's office with the potions vials in the fold of his robes, Harry felt oddly relieved. He always felt tense, on alert, when Slughorn was around. It was probably because of his strong dislike for the man.

Harry went up to his dorm and placed the potions securely inside his trunk. Then he made his way to lunch in the Great Hall. Hermione was immersed in a thick book, quietly mumbling to herself, while Neville was staring into space with a smile on his face.

"Hi," Harry grinned, "Had a nice Sunday so far?"

"I've been walking around the lake with Daphne," Neville volunteered, his smile broadening.

"That's great!" Harry said, happy for his friend, "So are you two actually dating?"

"We're trying to keep it under wraps for a while," Neville leaned towards Harry, "Don't want our families to make plans before we had a chance to find out where this is heading."

"Congratulations, anyway," Harry grinned and then frowned, "But wont that just mean that your families will continue to pester you to find someone?"

"Yes," Neville sighed, "But that's still better than our families trying to run our relationship."

"Right," Harry nodded, still not quite used to all those Pureblood customs and everything that came with it, "My lips are sealed, of course."

"Thanks Harry," Neville grinned and fell back into that dream like state he was before their conversation. Harry shrugged and helped himself to some roast beef.


	45. Chapter 45

**Hi everyone, sorry for the long wait. I was suffering from a major writer's block. By now I have worked half way through it, but I could still use some suggestions on how Lucius Malfoy could believably vanish from Voldemort, without implicating Draco or Harry. After that the plot is rather smoothly outlined in my head. Why oh way did I have to make Voldemort change the wards. Clever villains are a nuissance! Please review - Hopefully, the next update will be soon**.

Meeting the goblins at Gringott's turned out to be a relieve after having endured the ambivalent tension at Longbottom Estate for three days. Since their arrival Harry's nerves had been strained by the tense politeness between Draco and Mrs Longbottom. As tradition dictated Draco had done his utmost to be the most gracious guest to have ever graced Lonbgbottom Estate with his presence, while Mrs Longbottom in turn was the most courteous hostess in her own acerbic ways.

Tradition demanded it and it was slowly driving everyone insane. It was ridiculous how everyone was walking on eggshells, determined to never touch on any sensitive topics, when straight out clearing the air might have dissolved a lot of the tension. However, Purebloods reverted to ancient codes of conduct in difficult situations. Harry had wisely chosen not to interfere.

That did not mean he had not had repressed the urge to scream more than a couple of times. Draco was agitated, as well, but holding up far better than Harry, but then he felt that Pureblood traditions offered security.

"Do you believe your father could be convinced to side with me in earnest?" Harry had blurted out, ready to approach another uncomfortable topic to escape the present one after they had bid Mrs Longbottom good night after being choked by an overly opulent dinner and forced light conversation.

"It will take some cunning,"Draco had contemplated from his place on the large four poster bed, "But it is possible, I believe."

Harry leaned against the bedpost, waiting for Draco to elaborate.

"He'll support the side which serves his interest best, but ultimately he'll want to make sure to be on the winning side. Make sure he believes that to be you and you'll have gained his alliance. Of course, that mother and I are already irrevocably tied to you, features into that, as well."

"Right," Harry nodded, " So, I'll need to make him a better offer than spending his life in servitude. I can do that."

"More importantly you'll have to demonstrate your determination and resourcefulness to do what it takes to win!" Draco shook his head.

"So, what do you propose how I should approach him then?" Harry frowned.

"Don't be too _nice_," Draco curled his lip as if that word tasted foul, "It wont earn you any respect or credibility as a viable alley. You would appear weak."

Harry nodded slowly

"Now common courtesy wouldn't be amiss, of course, as well as options, but you need to make clear that you will do whatever it takes to win."

"Why exactly is it that you're advising me on how to handle your father?" Harry asked curiously. He had not expected Draco's advice to be so candid and sound.

"Your side is my side now." Draco said impatiently.

"I'm glad," Harry smirked, "But he's still your father."

"Exactly! I'd rather have him on my side. Besides he'd be a real asset, if he were to employ all of his resources."

"Can't deny that," Harry settled on the edge of the bed.

"So, when do you think I can expect to meet him?" Draco looked imploringly at Harry.

"I don't know," Harry carded his fingers through his hair, "There're still some obstacles to overcome. I'll have to catch him outside the wards and as an Azkaban escapee he wont usually risk being seen in public. However, I'd rather not be connected with his disappearance at all by either Dumbledore or Voldemort or the ministry."

"Of course," Draco nodded.

"What would be needed to lure him out of the wards?" Harry pondered aloud.

"News of mother or me, financial matters, inheritance claims, pertaining to the house of Malfoy. He'd have to attend to all Gringott's matters personally."

"He'd likely floo to Diagon Alley in disguise," Harry guessed.

"He'd be more likely to floo to Burgin and Burke's," Draco said.

"Even better," Harry's eyes glinted excitedly, "So, if we can lure him out at a specific date, we'd know where he'd go."

"He'd still be in disguise," Draco said.

"But the shopkeepers would still know it's him, don't you think. They would not rat him out."Harry mumbled.

"But maybe we could find a spell to confirm his identity. It should be easier since we're looking for someone specific."

"Of course, blood based identification," Draco offered.

"Which one to use? Most are slightly dark and leave a rather strong residue, Knockturners are naturally suspicious, it would be noticed in no time."

"A paternity test should do it," Harry suggested, "I doubt that's overly dark."

"It would – work that is, but it would also be dark, since you'd take blood without consent, even if only a drop is needed." Draco cautioned.

"It would also be suspicious, if people started to report their skin being nicked in front of Burgin and Burke's. Of course, morally and ethically this course of action would be questionable on so many levels... How many innocent bystanders would we get at before finding your father?"

"It is Knockturn Alley. Nothing truly unusual about strange dark magic circulating around. As for the _innocent _bystanders no one in Knockturn Alley is truly innocent. Besides we don't have any hurtful intentions." Draco shrugged, "The question is how we could set it up and what we'd do once we'd have his identity confirmed. I guess, we could lure him to a side street."

"Yes, we could plant a light compulsion into the charm to activate, if it is him." Harry suggested deciding to put his moral dilemma aside to be contemplated later.

"Now that would be admirable charm work!" Draco said, "It sounds nigh impossible."

"We'll see. Let's keep an open mind for now," Harry advised. Obviously, a lot of research would be needed to be done and he could not even ask for Hermione's help this time but between Draco, Dobby and himself it might just work out.

"We'd still need to fabricate a story to draw him out," Harry mused, "It would need to catch Voldemort's interest, as well, but should be inconspicuous and trivial enough for him to be sent alone."

"What's that about heritage claims?" Harry wondered.

"I'd rather not spin a Ragnok tale about you though," Harry continued . "If possible I don't want you associated with his disappearance at all. Your involvement would almost be taken for granted, after his appearance."

"We'd have to involve a goblin then," Draco grimaced, " They wont willingly be involved in this conflict. If you trick them into it, you'll be in trouble."

"Could they be bribed?" Harry pondered.

"Possibly," Draco frowned, "but they usually do not involve themselves in wizarding conflicts. You'd have to offer a lot of money.

"So what do we do once we have your father in that out of the way street."

"Well, you'd take him to your safe house?" Draco suggested.

"Yeah," Harry stared thoughtfully into space, but if we have to involve you, it might be better to stage a thorough disappearance. If we could stage his death..."

"He'd be much safer." Draco said, "especially, if he was murdered in disguise in a backstreet of Knockturn. No one would expect either of us to be involved. It would appear a completely unrelated crime, most likely attributed to the location and Dumbledore might not even learn anything about it."

"Quite," Harry nodded, "So maybe we could replace him with someone else."

"You've got any suitable bodies conveniently lying around?" Draco arched his eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not Polyjuice then. It would need to be him, under the drought of living death. After he's released from the ministry, we'd get his body."

"That's risky," Draco paled, "He could end up truly dead."

"Yeah, the plan's still got some major holes in them," Harry sighed.

"It might work though," Draco paused, "He'd be checked for cause of death, though the ministry's so over worked at present, I doubt they'd be overly thorough with some Knockturn Alley nobody's death, as long as his death does not raise any questions.

"Poison then," Harry said, "He'll imbibe a fetal dose of slow acting poison directly before the drought of living death. Then once we've got his body, we'd inject the antidote to the poison before giving him the antidote to the drought of living death.

"How do you intend to get him once the ministry has him?"

"If it were your father, he'd likely be handed over to you," Harry sighed, "This plan has some major holes in them. It's far too complicated and so many things could go wrong. It might be better to strike a deal with the goblins."

"A very costly one," Draco sneered, "Deals with goblins are often likened to deals with the devil."

"It would be more than worth it, if it gained me at least a tentative alliance with the goblins," Harry pinched his nose. Had he only paid more attention to Professor Binns droning on about goblin wars.

"What are their grievances with wizards, again?"Harry pinched his nose.

"Goblins are greedy creatures," Draco exclaimed, "For the last century they demand that goblin wrought items are not inherited within wizarding lines but returned to them upon the death of their original wizarding owner – outrageous."

"So that basically means that they only loan their goods?" Harry asked to clarify.

"Yes, but with the prices paid for goblin wrought items..."

"I would have thought that the contract would prevent wizards from holding onto such items?" Harry frowned.

"For those bought in modern times they do, but for ancient family heirlooms that date back to before the last goblin war – it was part of the peace agreement.

"Then it might be a good idea to return a few Malfoy family heirlooms to the goblins," Harry suggested.

"They're invaluable, in the family for centuries!" Draco spluttered.

"Too valuable to give up for your father's life?" Harry asked.

"Well no," Draco admitted.

Thus only four days after the beginning of the holidays Harry and Draco found themselves at Gringott's in front of Ragnok, Harry's personal financial advisor from Gringott's

"Mister Potter, Young Malfoy," Ragnok swept into a deep bow such as goblins were prone to do, when encountering a rich wizarding customer. Surely, this was no sign of respect?

Harry bowed back, earning a confused, curious, startled look from Draco– he could not quite make it out. Draco had too much control over his facial expressions in public to be read accurately. Harry could only guess that bowing to a goblin had never crossed his mind. But then Neville would have probably been startled as well. It was not that Neville was likely to consider himself inherently better than goblins, but his grandmother rather forcefully insisted on the proper way of doing things.

"How may I serve you today?" Ragnok asked after he had seated himself behind his desk, "I assume, you'd like to be updated on the state of your werewolf foundation."

"Yes, among other things but let's start with that," Harry inclined his head. What had become of being just Harry? Nowadays he was so focused on presenting the right image, in this case that of an reasonably influential wizard capable of seeing goblins as his equals. The most annoying thing was that he held all those characteristics, but he could not simply come out and say so, could he?

"Forty-three lycanthropes have taken the Unbreakable Vow and have taken their first monthly dose of Wolfsbane potion this month." Ragnok said. "Several more appeared interested but strongly refused to take the Vow."

Harry frowned. Of course, he knew that not all werewolves would consider his potion a solution for themselves. Giving up ones life for a lapse in control, might appear too high a price to pay. However, he also felt that he could not budge on that point, as it would mean endangering lives.

"A particular vocal one left us a message for you, which has already been checked for magical tempering and poison, of course." Ragnok continued and handed him a parchment with a crestless seal.

_Harry Potter,_

_while you appear to have noble intentions at heart, you seem to be rather ill informed on the plight of female werewolves. I would gladly fill in the blanks in your knowledge at a personal meeting and hope that together we can find a solution. I await your response and details on the time and place of our meeting._

_Best regards_

_Urica_

Harry blinked. He did not quite know what to make of that letter. Again there was no family name given and the missing crest on the seal almost gave the impression that she had none. What plight was she talking about? He would need to ask Remus. Should he meet her? It might be good to talk to a werewolf with another perspective than Remus'.

"Should I decide to meet her in person, would Gringott's be amenable to offer us a meeting place?" Harry asked Ragnok.

"Gringott's regularly rents out rooms for all kinds of negotiations against a fee, of course."

"Of course," Harry nodded, "I'll get back to you about that."

"Well, if that is all ..."

"Actually, there are a couple of matters we would like to discuss with you as a representative of Gringott's and the goblin nation," Harry said before Draco could open his mouth and set the tone for the conversation, negotiation and most likely put his foot in.

"I am not to speak for my people," Ragnok said, "but I will relay the message."

"Thank you," Harry inclined his head.

Now where to start? He could not simply barge in and lay everything out in the open. However, the history of wizards and goblins was one of deceit and mistrust. To hell with it. He was tired of all that tiptoeing around, plotting and scheming, when he did not even have a hidden agenda.

"I am sure it has not escaped your notice that I am steadily gaining influence and allies in magical Britain."

"And made several strikingly influential enemies," Ragnok remarked, showing of his pointed teeth.

"I guess so," Harry said curtly, not overtly surprised. He had stepped on too many pureblooded toes to not have made enemies with influence of their own.

"The flow of money shows it. It also shows that while you assemble masses, so far you lack influential allies to back your movement"

"Those advocating changes are usually vilified by those profiting of the current state of affairs." Harry said.

"So what changes are you attempting to get through?" Ragnok asked.

"The flow of money has not told you, as of yet?" Harry asked.

"It has shown possibilities. It is too early for anything specific," Ragnok showed his teeth, "You'd better be truthful, lest I detect a lie."

Harry gulped, giving up any effort on em blemishing his aims. Unlike the large amount of banks in the muggle world, where no one bank could keep track of all transactions, Griongott's was the only wizarding bank in wizarding Europe, at least. Every time money changed owners it went through Gringott's and could be followed from one owner to the next. Being bankers Gringott's goblins clearly had a head for numbers and in their hand an accumulation of recorded banking transactions just might be more effective than any kind of fortune telling ever attempted.

"Ultimately, I want to win this war." Harry gulped. Nevermind, how often he had repeated himself, he shivered every time. "Whether I will survive or not, I intend to leave my mark on this world. I want to live in a wizarding world of liberty and equal rights for every magical being."

"So far we have seen you in action on behalf of muggleborns and werewolves," Ragnok observed, "You certainly have shown commitment to werewolves, dedicating the Black vault permanently to them. It seems that you only just started on your muggleborn campaign. What else have you got up your sleeve?"

"Actually, I am trying to enforce half forgotten wizarding customs and traditions among my people," Harry said, "I feel that magical beings need to show a united front against muggles, so they might not one day become aware of our existence. There was a time, when wizards and witches stood proudly next to the other magical beings, allied as equals."

"You were not brought up in the wizarding world," Ragnok cocked his had as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"True," Harry nodded thoughtfully, "Even though I generally deplore the time I was forced to spend in the muggle world, I sometimes wonder, if in part it was a blessing. I was able to grow up without the typical bigotry and prejudices of the wizarding world. You'd need to prove to most witches and wizards that you can be their equals and would likely fight an uphill battle. I consider you as sentient magical beings of considerable intelligence as equals by default, until you prove differently."

"Well that is kind of you," again Ragnok showed his teeth, "What good does that do us, though?"

"I know too little about goblins to properly represent their best interests without further input on the part of representatives of the goblin nation."

"You'd be spreading yourself thin, representing so many contrasting interests in your quest to obtain allies. Goblins have remained neutral in all wizarding conflicts and wars since the 12th century. We are unlikely to take sides this time around." Ragnok said, "The benefits are hardly worth the effort."

"Have you thought of what will become of goblins and Gringott's should Voldemort win? Once he has won, he wouldn't even heed alliances then no longer needed. As a magical race who had been neutral in the war the best you could hope for is slavery. With the goblin nation at my side I would be a huge step closer to victory." Harry exclaimed.

"And after your glorious victory your allies formerly united by a common foe will start to squabble and you will be forced to make concessions, in order to hold them all together, lest wizarding Britain falls apart. There is no place for goblins in your brave new world."

"You are right," Harry looked Ragnok square in the eyes, "My first and foremost aim is to reform the wizarding world. The goblin nation as a self governed nation would not be my main concern. And yet I meant what I said. I will attempt to improve your standing in the wizarding world, whether you agree to an alliance or not."

"What exactly is it that goblins seek from wizards?" Harry asked then.

"The right to carry wands and that all goblin wrought items are returned into goblin ownership after the death of the human owner," Ragnok stated with a feral grin, as if he expected Harry to flee upon hearing those demands.

Draco huffed audibly and Harry quickly grabbed his hand.

"Thank you, for that most illuminating conversation," Harry stood up, helped a sulking Draco up as well and bowed to Ragnok, who returned the bow with a small smile on his lips.

Draco kept his silence all through dinner aside from the strained niceties addressed to Mrs Longbottom.

"Thank you for a marvelous dinner Mrs Longbottom," Draco gave each of them a stiff bow and strode from the dinning hall.

"What's gotten into him now," Neville looked wearily at Harry.

"Neville," Mrs Longbottom reprimanded sharply.

"Sorry, Gram," Neville sighed.

"It's complicated," Harry bit his lip.

"I bet," Neville suppressed a small snort, "Sorry"

"That's alright," Harry said, feeling his lips twitch.

"It's not alright," Mrs Longbottom said outraged, "This is no way to talk about a guest, Neville. I should think I had brought you up to know better!"


	46. Chapter 46

**Dear reader,**

** I appologize for the long wait. Unfortunately, I had myself written into a corner and it took me a while to find a way out. I think, I have finally found a solution, even if it is not great. If you have any ideas on how to kidnap Lucius, I would really like to hear them. **

** Thank you for your patience.**

**Kirks**

* * *

**Chapter 46**

"We really shouldn't be seen," Harry said urgently to the group of muggleborns as he let them inside Gringott's. Just for the occasion he had let Mrs Longbottom cast a notice me not charm on him, which however would break under close scrutiny. So far no one had given them a second glance and Harry certainly preferred it that way.

"Harry Potter here for the eleven o'clock appointment," Harry politely inclined his head to the teller as he would for any human shop assistant.

"Of course," the goblin eyed their group with apparent interest, "follow me please."

After many twists and turns in the narrow cave like insides of Gringott's they were led into a large mostly bare room outfitted with one single huge table and lots of solid chairs.

"Please have a seat," the goblin said, "Usually we do but one or two blood tests at a time, so we ask you to wait here for your turn to take the test. Refreshments will be provided, of course."

Large pitchers with pumpkin juice and plates of sandwiches appeared on the table.

"Thank you," Harry smiled, "I appreciate that."

"We will call you alphabetically one after another," the goblin droned on in a business like tone of voice.

"Excuse me," Harry said, while the goblin took out a roll of parchment from within the folds of his robes, "But could maybe I go first – just to put everyone at ease, seeing as it was my idea."

Harry had seen several of the younger students twitch rather nervously in their seats. It was understandable. The idea of giving some of his blood made him feel more than a little nervous, as well, in part because the last one who had taken his blood had been Wormtail at Voldemort's resurrection. Of course, the others had not shared that experience but the goblins and the gloomy cave like rooms could be quite frightening, as well.

"As you wish," the goblin said disinterestedly, "Follow me, please."

He was led through a small side door into a much smaller room, which was far more ornamental than the other room. Rubies adorned the furniture, shiny weapons decorated the walls in typically gaudy goblin fashion.

"Please place your hand on the table," said the goblin monotonously.

"What's going to happen?" Harry blurted out.

"You asked to have a blood test performed on you," The goblin said impatiently, "That's what I'm about to do."

"So how does it work?" Harry asked.

"'I'll draw three drops of blood from the ring finger of your hand which is not your wand hand, as custom dictates. Then drop it on a piece of parchment and work my magic," the goblin snapped.

"Alright," Harry sighed, "It might be a good idea to give that explanation to everyone right from the beginning."

"You are the customer," the goblin said. Patience was quite obviously not a virtue of this goblin Harry concluded.

Harry placed his hand on the table, even though he did not feel all that reassured by the goblins attitude. The goblin approached him with a long pointy knife and pricked his finger, Harry winced and forcefully suppressed a twitch. The goblin's smile showed off his pointy teeth, while he let three thick drops of blood fall on the parchment below. Harry watched him intently but could not make out any particular action while a rather bolt looking script appeared on the parchment in front of the goblin.

"Ah, yes", the goblin nooded, "Congratulations Mr Potter. The blood test has confirmed you to be a desecendant of the Black family, direct descendant of Hesper Gamp and Sirius Black."

"Thank you," Harry nodded courteously at the goblin as he stood up to leave the room.

"I suppose, you have arranged a secure meeting room for myself and Miss Urica?" Harry thought to ask at the door.

"As requested, Mr Potter," the goblin replied, "You will be escorted there in time for your meeting."

Harry nodded. He had arranged a meeting with the female werewolf who had left him a letter the the last time he had been at Gringott's. While he was weary of her, he was also curious.

There did not seem to be a better meeting place than Gringott's, who had declared themselves neutral ground and rented out meeting rooms for negotiations since the last goblin rebellion. They were known to enforce security within their bank rather fiercely. After all they made good money out of renting secure meeting rooms. Bank policy demanded that the first offender be struck down mercilessly regardless of his or her race or status, thus maintaining neutrality.

For the moment Harry joined the others in the waiting room who were all watching him anxiously.

"I've tested positive," Harry grinned.

"Oh that's so great," Hermione gushed.

"How does this test work," Sarah's lip trembled.

"Oh, it's ok," Harry frowned, "I was scared at first, too. "The slightly scary decorations didn't help." He shrugged. "But he only took three drops of my blood and dropped them on a piece of parchment."

Sarah did not look reassured but lifted her shoulders and raised her head defiantly.

"Mr Boot," the goblin called from the door way.

"Well, that will certainly be educational," said Terry as he left with the goblin.

Just as Terry returned rather pale looking but grinning another goblin entered the room.

"Mr Potter, I am to escort you to your meeting room," he said.

"See you later," Harry waved and followed the goblin who hurried him once again through the maze like underground of Gringott's.

Harry entered the still empty meeting room, which was bare except for a table and two chairs. Harry sat at the chair facing the door and waited. He did not know what to expect but the rather chubby women with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes did not fit his expectations at all.

"Mr Potter, I thank you for agreeing to this meeting," said she said by way of greeting.

"Well Miss ... ?," Harry inclined his head.

"I havn't been called Miss for a long time," she shook her head, "It's just Urica."

"Oh", Harry blinked, "I didn't mean to offend."

"You didn't Mr Potter," she gave a husky chuckle, "Surely, you know that as a werewolf I no longer carry a family name."

"In fact, I didn't, "Harry admitted, "But that explains so much. Well then Urica what did you wish to discuss with me?"

"Inform you of some facts about werewolves that your self hating werewolf friend might not have told you about," she said crsiply, suddenly looking rather fierce.

"Please go on," Harry frowned.

"The only chance for a female werewolf such as myself to have children is to bite a human and turn them. Were I to get pregnant as a human I could never carry the child to term. My child would not survive the monthly transformations."

"I am very sorry to hear that," Harry said sincerely, "What am I to do about that though?"

"You offer free wolvesbane for an unbreakable vow to never bite a human. Surely you can see the unfairness of that condition now," Urica said.

"I am not about to budge on that vow," Harry shook his head.

"All I've ever wanted to be is a mother," Urica growled, "Then I got bitten and lost that possibility along with my fiancé and everything I held dear. How is that fair!"

"It's not." Harry sighed, "But were you to bite someone you'd make that person lose everything as well."

"I just want a family, a child to love and care for." she sobbed brokenly.

"The child you bite might just as well hate you for destroying their life," Harry growled.

This woman was a nutcase. He should call the order before she actually went and bit some innocent child.

"Not to sound mocking, but life isn't fair." Harry said, "I should know. As I have come to understand it lycanthropy is a curse that should not be allowed to spread."

"So you are just like all the other wizards, Mr Potter," she spit out.

"Contrary to other wizards I don't judge you based on your condition or your desires," Harry said. "I will always judge you solely on your actions. If you can resist your desire to bite someone, you will have my profound admiration." Harry decided to throw her that last olive branch and rose from his chair, holding his hand out for her to shake.

"Who are you to judge me?" she growled, stared at his hand and then abruptly left the meeting room.

Harry stepped out of the meeting room with a frown. Everything always turned out to be so much more complicated than it appeared at first glance. He sighed and directed a curt nod at the goblin waiting at the door and they marched back in silence towards the inheritance chamber

At the room he was greeted by excited chatter. It seemed that almost all of the others had already gone through the blood test.

"So how did it go?" Harry inquired to the room at large but, of course, it was Hermione who answered.

"All of us were confirmed to have magical ancestry. Hermione gushed, "I am a descendant of the Mc Gonagall line and Terry's great-grandfather was a Nott, the Creevys are related to Flitwick and Sandra here is actually a Rowle, it only goes as far as her mother! Justin is a descendant of the Crouch line and ..."

Harry frowned. Sarah's mother? But, at least, when Sarah got her Hogwarts letter, her mother could have told her of her own heritage. Maybe Sarah was adopted? Then it might be a touchy subject and it was better to let it be for now.

"So, it was a success," Harry grinned and received answering grins in return.

"So, now we have a magical proof that we are descendants from squibs," Terry stated, "So what are we doing next?"

"Right, do we contact members of the respective wizarding lines directly?" Justin asked.

"I think, we should give a general statement on our wizarding descent with the goblins as witnesses and then publish it in the Daily Prophet," Harry suggested, "As to contacting the families ..."

"Contacting families with unknown alliances would put you in even more danger than being mere muggleborns. Those with Death Eater ties would most likely take your claim as a personal insult and be put under pressure to target you and your families," Draco said.

"But now it is more than a claim," Sarah whispered fiercely, "We do have magical proof."

"We do," Draco nodded and it struck Harry how much Draco had changed, including himself into this group of muggleborns like that."But there is no reasoning with them. They'd likely feel they had to 'prune' their familiy lines of impurities."

"So it was all for naught?" Hermione stared at Draco furiously, her gaze full of righteous anger.

"Don't kill the messenger," Harry patted Hermione on the arm in an attempt to calm her down.

"I think, however, that it would be a good idea to inform Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, at least,"Draco added.

"What about Theodore Nott," Terry Boot asked Draco.

"I have never been able to pinpoint exactly were he stands politically," Draco cautioned with a pensive frown.

"You've been dorm mates for years!" Hermione exclaimed, "You must have an idea."

"Well, I know where his father stands politically, obviously and I would caution against contacting Thorvald Nott, but his son never said anything either way, but then he usually keeps to himself anyway."

"Well, maybe he intends not to involve himself at all," Terry suggested.

"Some time soon, he will be forced to make a decision," said Draco.

"Then contacting him might be the deciding factor to bring him to our side," Harry speculated.

"A rather dangerous gamble," Draco frowned, "He might have already made up his mind but intends to remain inconspicuous. "

"I suggest, we'll see how he reacts to there being formerly unknown descendants of the Flitwick and McGonagall line and you can make up your mind after that," Harry suggested.

"I'll have to discuss this with my father, as well, seeing as this might endanger not only myself but also my family even more," Terry sighed.

"Everyone should keep in mind that by connecting yourselves to an ancient wizarding line you and your families will be even more likely to be targeted." Draco cautioned glumly.

"So, we shouldn't do anything at all?" Hermione hissed.

"What you do is certainly up to you," Draco gritted his teeth while keeping his hands folded in front of him.

"I think Draco has a point there," Harry said, "We should keep in mind that while we fight for equality and acceptance in the wizarding world, our relatives are likely sitting ducks."

"So what do we do? Sarah asked fearfully.

"Ideally, they should leave the country." Harry frowned.

Seeing as the war is likely spreading to all of Europe it would be even saver to relocate to another continent alltogether," Draco suggested.

"So, they should give up their lives – everything - here?" Hermione hissed.

"- to survive? " Terry looked Hermione in the eyes, "Definitely!"

"It's only a matter of time – they will be targeted anyway!" Draco said matter of factly.

"How do we go about that anyway," Justin asked.

"They should take on fake identities," Harry said, "but I have no idea how to go about that."

"We'll come up with something," Terry said with a determined look in his eyes. Harry had the distinct impression that Terry already had a vague course of action in mind that he was as of yet not ready to disclose.


End file.
